Listen to Your Heart
by NorthernSunshine
Summary: As children they were opposites, as teenagers they grew apart, as adults he couldn't reach him. But it wasn't the world that held Arthur back. It wasn't anything else but his heart. Human A/U
1. Childhood part I

A/N: Hello once more Internet. This story has been part of some really deep experiences in my life. I started on this three days after the original video-inspiration was released, and wrote on a sketch for the story while staying in China. In the year that has been, it became creepy how well certain episodes of my original ideas ended up being part of my life. I will post this, hoping to share one of the most meaningful stories that I have ever posted. I'll refrain from large introductions and notes after this chapter. If you want to know more of my stories, please go to my tumblr: sunshineauthornotes.

Title: Listen to Your Heart

Author: NorthernSunshine (formerly known as Shitza)

Pairing: FRUK mainly, the rest will remain a secret for now;)

Rating: T

Length: 20 chapters

Cast (human names): England-Arthur, France-Francis, Scotland-Allistor, Ireland- Brian, N. Ireland-Brendan, Poland-Feliks, Spain-Antonio, Prussia-Gilbert, N. Italy-Veniziano, S. Italy-Lovino, Norway-Lukas, Denmark-Mathias, Iceland-Emil, Hong Kong-Leon, Romania-Vladimir, Moldova-Costel, Germany-Ludwig, Turkey-Sadik, Taiwan-Xiao Mei, China-Yao.

Timespan: 1999-2015

Inspiration and shout out: The birth and inspiration of this story comes from the beautiful remake of DHT's cover (of originally Swedish pop-group Roxette's) Listen to Your Heart, sung by AvariceRose from Youtube. Please visit and subscribe to her channel if you find her content as beautiful as I have.

Cover image made using canva.

 **Discaimer** : This is a non-profit story made by a fan, for fans, without claims on any source material or ownerships. In short, I am not Himaruya, not do I work this field, therefore I have nothing to claim other than my choice of words. However, this still does not mean that I want this story to be posted anywhere else without my consent, please!

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 **Listen to Your Heart**

 **Chapter 1**

 **The boy with golden hair**

Heavy archways of dense green trees shaped a tunnel that the small caravan of one car and one moving truck sped through. Little tiny Arthur William Edward Kirkland sighed heavily as he humourlessly glared at the dense roof of leaves above them. His older brother Allistor spoke rapidly with their mother in his usual Scottish accent. He had been doing so for the last hour and Arthur sighed out of boredom. He knew he'd lose the fight again if he tried to ask of Allistor to be quiet. All his brothers were all born loud, he wasn't an exception. It wasn't even the usual chaotic day among the Kirkland residents. They were heading to their new home. Arthur had been told many times before that they had to make this move. Their mother, who single handedly cared for all four of the Kirkland siblings had recently gotten divorced for a third time. This left her with no option but to go for the first best solution she could find, in other words to apply for a teaching-job in France.

Not that Arthur understood all those complications that adults faced. It was all too perplexing how adults came up with such weird things as love and heartbreak. He sighed. Allistor had firmly told him that he was too young to understand, but Arthur did understand. He may just be seven years old, but he understood as much as that their mother had to move. This did not mean that he had to like it. Nor had it felt better to move so soon after he just turned seven.

"So, where is this house?" Allistor asked their mother from the front row. Arthur glared at him from his seat behind their mother, while the twins, Brian and Brendan, sat in the right and middle seat to Arthur's right. It was a weird arrangement.

"Not too far away now." Their mother answered calmly.

Allistor gazed forward, where finally, they exited the tunnel of trees.

"It's so weird though." his older brother points out. "It feels like we're on the wrong side of the road."

Their mother, Mary, chuckled.

"Most of Europe drives on the right side. Usually, people complain when they arrive on the islands."

Allistor nodded. "So, where was this house again? Is it onie good? Do they even have electricity or runnin' water here?"

Their mother laughed again. "Oh, my little Allistor, they're French, they're not the kind of monsters Miss Baxter made them out to be."

Miss Baxter had been the brothers' caretaker back in their life in London. Their mother Mary had been very busy at work and could remain at her workplace for several long hours. Stuck with those long hours and the responsibility of so many children, she had been forced to hire a caretaker for the young children, even if Allistor had complained at first. Arthur knew Miss Baxter was a student at the London University, with a major in history. She had cared for the boys for just a few months, before she moved back to York. He had loved listening to her stories, because unalike most caretakers he had met, she would tell them about the amazing superiority that Great Britain had shown over those French swine. He Arthur had been born a proud Brit, and a true Brit.

Which was another reason for him to truly despise moving.

"Mum, when are we there?" he asked, gazing up at the otherwise clear blue sky. Feeling as if someone was taunting him for his own misery, he stuck his tongue at the clouds.

"Oh, Arthur, are you awake? Oh, don't worry dear. We'll be there shortly."

Allistor raised his head to look at his younger brother. "What's wrong, wee brother? Fair anxious to get there?"

Arthur huffed, as loudly as he could. He really didn't like his older brother. Allistor may be older, but he was half Scottish, and therefore acted as much as one as he possibly could. Allistor was four years older, but in Arthur's opinion he was as stupid as an older brother could get. And just as annoying.

Shuddering the young boy remembered such an incident only a few weeks ago, when Allistor, dressed in his usual navy-blue dressing gown had walked in to put a CD in his CD-player, turned the volume on max and blasted the house with Scottish bagpipe music.

It was a horrible experience Arthur would never forget.

"I just wish to get there soon, then we'll get out sooner." He said, trying to act smart, but his response did not add to the effect he would have liked, as both started laughing.

"Oh, my sweet lad." Arthur's mother said softly. "It will probably take some time before the five of us return to England for that. Don't you worry, I know you will love it here."

Arthur glared at the front-seaters, and crossed his arms.

"I highly doubt that." he whispered to himself.

"Cheer up son, we are almost there." Mrs Kirkland quickly said, ending the impending arguments.

Arthur didn't have to wait long before their mother announced that they had arrived, and it distracted Arthur enough to actually look at what was going to be his fate. To his great dismay, it was even worse than he feared. The house itself was a two floor box, built of lightly coloured stone and an orange tiled roof. The windowpanes and doors were painted white. The house had a pretty small garden, and seemed to have been wedged between two bigger houses. The only way to know that the house wasn't someone's garage were the high stone walls that seemed to make clear borders. To Arthur, it felt somewhat like a prison, but he did like the large apple tree that grew and branched outside the confinements of the wall.

His mother parked the car on a small square before the house. The truck followed in pursuit, and they were all told to exit. Allistor shook the twins awake, and told them to follow him inside.

The movers took most of the furniture, but there were still many objects that had not been put in baskets. Allistor was set to help their mother with some of the boxes, Arthur got to carry lamps, baskets and small bags. The twins didn't have to do anything, while their middle brother he slightly envied them. They were yet too young to understand anything of this.

He didn't pay much more of his attention to his surroundings until he, by mere chance, heard someone cough. But it didn't give from any of the usual direction, it came from above.

Arthur looked up to see another boy, head above the edge of the wall to look down at him. This boy was a few years older, probably around Allistor's age. Unlike Allistor, who was such a redhead it was almost funny, this boy had blond locks that by the French warm sun seemed to be made of gold.

They looked at each other for a short time, then Arthur stuck his tongue out.

The boy blinked a few times as if trying to determine what just happened, but sent back a rude face of his own.

Arthur put down the vase he was holding, and made another face back. This continued until Arthur's mother, who wondered where her little boy could have wandered off to, opened the door and told him to get inside.

Arthur's head turned briefly to nod to her, but when he turned his head back to shoot another glare at the other boy the boy was already gone. Arthur just new, right there and then, that he and this boy would never get along.

-000-

Arthur was broody the next day when his brother dropped him off at a small building of yellow sandstone. Neither brothers spoke a lot. Arthur didn't say anything as he was still grumpy from the very morning, where he had given a large tantrum about going to a new school. Allistor didn't fair much better either, since he had been on the receiving end of it. Their mother had left an hour before either of them woke up. Allistor left him in front of the building, and said a simple: "Behave!" before he strode off to his own school for older students.

So now he stood by the doors glaring at what he saw as a prison from everything he loved and knew.

As he stood staring at the door it opened and a fair skinned woman with chestnut brown hair opened the door. She smiled at him.

"'Ello, are you per'aps young Mr Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur nodded. She was dressed in a light yellow floral dress with small tiny prints of red roses. No matter what he would have wanted to think of her, her smile and the choice of roses made it harder for him to completely dislike her. And, she spoke English, which he was sure she would not. Only civilized people did.

But he soon figured she was the only really nice thing, and as for civilized? He could soon count a number of reasons he did not like this at all.

Once they had gotten to the classroom she asked him to stand in front of the class and present himself. But, as soon as he opened his mouth a sea of perplexed or stupid faces met him. His teacher, Mademoiselle Bonnerose, translated his speech the best she could, but once the actual lesson started he realised he would not understand a thing. The entire lesson was in French.

He therefore spent the hours drawing in his notebook instead of paying much attention, while his classmates recited basic French words. He was more than happy when he saw that it was 1pm and his classmates hurriedly put their books away, meaning that this horror was over. He wanted to run home, but as soon as he stepped outside the door he realised he had forgotten the direction home. And Allistor wasn't anywhere to be seen. Once more his brother had forgotten him, and Arthur was left to feel slightly misplaced and alone.

"Arthur, are you not going 'ome?"

He turned to see his teacher Mademoiselle Bonnerose walk up to him.

He shook his head.

"Do you 'ave no one to pick you up?"

"My brother, but I think he forgot."

Mademoiselle Bonnerose gave a small expression that seemed like understanding.

"Where does your brother go to?"

"L'Ecole D'A... something... but mother told him to pick me up since he is a big boy now. He's eleven."

"Oh, I see. But, Arthur. The students of grade five 'as class until three today. My sister works there. If you 'ave no one to take you 'ome, I could walk you for a bit, but..."

Arthur nodded. For the moment he forgave Mademoiselle Bonnerose for being French, because among the French he saw her as someone who was a little different that the other French, or at least that was his opinion of it. And he liked her smile.

"Bounshoor!" he suddenly heard and looked to see familiar golden locks attached to a young boy, who steadily approached them. Mademoiselle Bonnerose smiled and said something back. They spoke for a minute in French, but he didn't understand. How rude, keeping conversations a secret from you.

The blond boy smiled at Arthur, who simply glared back. He had not forgotten their little exchange the other day. But the second later Mademoiselle Bonnerose smiled back down at him again, and she crouched down to meet him face to face, and Arthur could glare no more.

"Arthur, this is Monsieur Bonnefoy, 'e tells me you two are neighbours. So, as you both live close I can let 'im follow you 'ome instead, and maybe you can get to know each other?"

Arthur felt a little distraught over the idea of such a frog following him home, but he told himself that a gentleman should never be rude to a lady. As he stared at Francis, he kind of figured that the boy could perhaps be mistaken for a girl and it made him feel a little superior.

Mademoiselle Bonnerose smiled and waved before she left. But a minute later she walked back from the road they had walked. Francis offered his hand to Arthur, who shook his head. He wasn't that much younger than Francis, even though the older boy was several centimetres taller than he was.

"Allons-y?!"

"What?"

"We go?"

"Oh" Arthur said, and followed as Francis took the lead.

They walked for what most likely was several minutes before Francis said: "My name, Francis Bonnefoy. I am 10 years. I speak little English. You?"

"I am Arthur Kirkland and I turned seven this April. And your English is really bad, who taught you?"

Francis was silent for a few seconds, as he was translating what Arthur said within his mind. "Arthur, oh... My père teach me, but he is not 'ome. He works."

"Oh. Well, my father left me too."

Arthur didn't notice, but the walk home took longer than he would soon learn would be necessary, but Francis wanted to show him a little of his home village. They reached the market, where people were slowly putting up tables for the sale that was soon to start. Further down a road was an ancient monastery from early Christian age, made from stone, where a newly married couple stood in front of a photographer for their first pictures as newly-weds. Francis stopped briefly to watch, and Arthur had to admit that it was a curious sight. He still remembered a little from his mother's last marriage, where he had carried the rings.

They continued to the left of a crossroad, which took them to a small spring. Francis told him that the spring flowed from a lake further up, where he and the village children would often go to play. Arthur decided to show Francis how to play Pooh-sticks.

Arthur happily one four out of six games, not that Francis seemed bothered about loosing. The young Frenchman sang something happily in French that Arthur didn't understand, but the boy seemed to be in a good mood and completely unaware of how Arthur truly felt about these odd French.

The continued left until Francis took them to a familiar path Arthur recognised at once as the road home. Francis kindly pointed out all of the houses. There weren't many of them. All these houses had been or belonged to former vineyards from the time when the village had been a huge producer of said beverage. Francis seemed to know all of these, and could even describe how they tasted.

"How on earth can you tell, are your parents drunk? How do you know what wine tastes like?" Arthur asked after Francis finished telling about the third house and the addition of the famous village apples that this man put into his wine.

"Drunk? I think so. But it was my grandmère who told me. She lived in your house."

"Is that so? Then were is she now?"

"Up there." Francis said and pointed to the sky and shrugged. Arthur didn't say anything, he understood very well when angels took you to heaven. He had once said goodbye to his grandfather as well the other year.

"She went to see grandpère again, that is what maman said." Francis said, and somehow there was a slight twinkle in his eyes as he said so.

Arthur looked up as they passed the final house before his. It also had high walls, but even higher apple trees that would one day ripen. Arthur was happy he was home and that he would be able to ditch Francis, but the Frenchman suddenly took his hand, quite enthusiastically and dragged him off, pass their homes and to the end of the road.

Arthur opened his mouth and told the older boy to let him go, but Francis simply smiled and continued dragging him. It didn't seem to matter whatever Arthur said, Francis didn't stop until they reached the far end, where the boy dragged him pass a broken fence.

Arthur was dragged to an old abandoned vineyard, where the years had surely been harsh and dragged the old buildings down to a state where reparations would take years to complete. But the years had also made the old grapevines thicker and the old olive trees more knotted and twisted. Arthur glared at Francis at first, but soon realised that the young boys expression changed immediately upon entering. His eyes seemed a little bigger, and almost distant as if he saw something Arthur did not, and Arthur got curious.

"This is my favourite place." Francis said finally.

"Really... doesn't look that special to me. Kind of, old." Arthur said.

"Not to me." Francis said. "And it is very funny, come."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing among the many buildings and trees of the old vineyard. At first Arthur was tricked to chasing Francis among the tall vines, the shabby walls and the knotted trees, but it soon turned into a game, where Francis, due to his age and slightly older experiences, won many of their chases. As the sun slowly set, they rolled down the olive tree hill laughing and gazed at the starry skies. Arthur's laughter was yet all but hollow, because no matter what he could not forget what the French was to him.

Time flew quickly, and when finally Arthur found himself at home, with his worried mother, he might still find a large dislike for his French predicament and dislike towards fate. But still, he couldn't help but to smile knowing he at least had some fun. When he finally told his mother about this, she calmed down slightly, but asked to be forewarned should Francis and he want to play some more.

"You don't need to worry about that, mum." Arthur said. "It will never happen again! I don't even like him."

Arthur decided to forget the fun for now, and keep to the voice in his head that told him over and over that the French were no good.

He silently swore, among the still sea of boxes within his room, that he would never, ever, befriend a French, and Francis was the least likely candidate. He was happy that summer was just around the corner, and therefore he would soon find a good reason to stay at home, read his books and drift into his own world filled with fairies, pirates and treasures. There would be no reason to let in a certain golden blond haired boy in.

 _TBC_

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A/N: _In this section I will post some interesting story details and real life events that came to inspire some of this story, and hopefully can inspire you some as well. There are some interesting details that made this story even more special for me. So hopefully, it can help you as well._

 **Arthur's family:** Arthur's current family is quite large, and hopefully this can clear things up. Arthur has 3 brothers, Allistor, the oldest and the younger twins Brendan and Brian. All three are Arthur's half-brothers, since his mother has been married three times, to Allistor's father, to Arthur's father and once to the father of the twins. The brother's Hetalia identities are: Allistor is Scotland, Brian is Ireland and Brendan is Northern Ireland (which is part of the UK). I decided not to put Wales into the family, as the family is large enough and I thought four failed marriages is not bad, it's a near disaster (three is bad enough). If anyone is curious, Wales is a cousin for this story, but he never made it past mentioning.

 **Pooh-sticks:** They say authors often put themselves in the story, and I guess this is one of the ways I will do it. I wanted to give Arthur some other authors to love than the usual stereotypical: Shakespeare or Arthur Conan Doyle. After all, the UK has given us a large collection of authors. I, myself, used to read Winnie the Pooh when I was very young, and once in England my mother took me to a bridge we saw and played pooh-sticks. The game is very simple, should you ever want to play with your children/future children. Each competitor finds a stick. You take the stick to a stream with a bridge. At the end from where the stream floats you drop the stick at the same time, the stick that flows out from under the bridge first, wins. It is a complete game of luck, but I used to enjoy it a lot. I guess, in one way, I was very easily amused.

 **Drunk:** I know some of the English speakers will be a little weirded out by this, but you cannot forget that Francis doesn't speak English fluently and is still learning. I wanted him to be able to understand a lot of English, which itself is really good for his age, but there will be words he will be very puzzled by. The word _drunk_ sounds to him like textbook material as how present and past words are formed: _._ To Francis the phrase sounded as if his parents had drank wine at some point.

 **Francis' family:** Francis is a single child. His mother lives with him in the village, his father however is a diplomat who works from Paris and occasionally Africa. Francis therefore near never gets to see his father, whom he has grown more and more distant to. It was also Francis' father who decided that Francis ought to learn English at a very early age, and therefore whenever he is home he will speak English only to Francis. This is why Francis is pretty good at the language, at a time when the Internet had yet to explode.


	2. Childhood part II

A/N: I hope none of you believed that Arthur and Francis would be best friends after just one chapter? If so, here is the hint. This is England and France we are talking about.

Another important note: _"French spoken lines are written like this."_

 **Chapter 2**

 **The Lake**

Summer approached with a gush of warm air and Arthur, who wasn't too happy about the southern heat, took that as his cue to stay indoors and ignore anything French or warm. To his grave annoyance Francis took the promise of the summer holiday as an excuse to turn up outside the door once every morning. Equally, Arthur had his own excuse not to turn up. His mother had given him a second book of the Winnie the Pooh series and he was far more interested in the magic of the Seven Acre Woods than to play with anyone French.

He knew they were already twisting him into becoming more and more French by the day. Despite his best efforts, he understood more of what Madame Bonnerose explained to him during school lessons. She didn't need to translate everything for him as his French had reached a high enough level to hear the difference between madame and mademoiselle. It was the same as the English Mrs or Miss. A few weeks had changed a lot around him, but he still saw the British to be superior to the French. Though if you'd ask, he'd never be able to give you a very long or logical explanation. It just was.

But childish plans rarely succeed for a very long time. One Wednesday afternoon, when his mother left to visit one of her friends in the village, Arthur was outside by the wall staring at the huge apple-trees one of his neighbours owned in envy. He could hear his brother leave the house as the door slammed shut, and the twins were with their mother. Within the hour he soon found that Allistor had locked him out.

Arthur spent several minutes angrily kicking and glaring at the door before he heard a familiar _ding._

" _Arthur? I see the rabbit has left the house."_ Francis spoke in French. The French boy had ridden his bike to the front of the lawn. Francis happily jumped of his bike and tried to greet him warmly, but Arthur dodged his attempts.

"Allistor locked me out." Arthur growled and his ears turned slightly red. He still spoke in English, but Francis seemed to understand it. Francis seemed untouched by his snarls and quite determined the French boy reached out for him and smiled as he took Arthur by the hand. He then lead him away to the bike and patted the back. As Arthur considered his options, namely to wait for Allistor to hopefully return which was quite unlikely to be anytime soon- With a deep sigh he hoped that this was at least going to be somewhat more interesting than staring at apples all day.

The ride to the village market was short, but still as wobbly as many roads tend to be when they have not been grazed by asphalt. Arthur was forced to hold on firmly to Francis back to not fall off, and he could swear the young Frenchman was trying to kill him.

"Tell me why we're going to the market, you frog!"

Francis laughed.

"Because, I want you to meet my friends." Francis answered and Arthur could hear the laughter in his voice. He opted for a while to simply jump off the bike and head back, but Francis sped up and any fall would surely leave bruises.

Arthur was more than happy when they reached the market, and he was allowed to hop off. He was about to ask who these friends of Francis were, when a squeal met him.

" _Oh, Francis. He is adorable!"_ a female voice squealed in French.

Arthur looked toward the direction of the voice to see a girl with braided, brown pigtails and round glasses run up to them. She seemed to be around Francis age. Close behind her came two other girls, one strawberry blond with freckles and the other another brunette with a very pointy nose. All three girls gazed interestingly at Arthur, who felt his old shyness return. They were quite the opposite of the scarecrows he would have liked to imagine.

" _Julie, Delphine, Marie, bonjour!_ " Francis said with a wide smile. "Yes, this is Arthur." Francis said and poked him, making Arthur squirm. The young boy retaliated with a glare. Francis shook his head. "Arthur, this is Julie" he pointed towards the first girl, "Delphine" he pointed at the strawberry-blond "and Marie" he pointed at the second brunette.

"He is adorable, almost like a little woodland creature!" Julie squealed excitedly. To Arthur's surprise she spoke in English.

Delphine, the strawberry-blond, gasped and suddenly dove into the bag she carried with her She took out a small green cape.

"Here," she said. "Wear this." she added and tied it around Arthur's neck. Arthur touched the soft material. It seemed to be made of something soft and he liked it. The third girl took out a slightly bigger cape in royal blue. With reddened cheeks she gave it to Francis who bowed and took it.

" _I... I made this in school."_ Marie said, while her friends giggled non-stop.

They made both twist around in their capes to the point where Arthur started to feel dizzy, but he couldn't deny that he did actually like his present. Green was his favourite colour and it made him think of all those fairytales he had read and just imagined himself to enter. Somehow, he could see both himself, the woodsman, and Francis, the prince he was about to rob, dressed in these gifts. And with a sly smile, the day didn't seem so bad. He, Francis and the girls went straight to one of the village café to spend an surprisingly good afternoon with tea and free éclairs.

-000-

The days passed on slowly. June turned to mid July and no matter what Arthur was forced to gradually get used to his new French friend. He didn't have much of a choice as Francis would turn up by the door every day.

As many other days, Arthur once more gazed out his window deep in thought. He leaned his elbows at his desk. He had many things to think about; Francis, who always seemed to know how to whisk him away on some small adventure, his brother whom he still really disliked, living in France and slowly getting used to it or... those apples.

For the last few days Arthur had been glaring over the wall. One of the neighbours had huge apple trees, and Arthur swore those apples would soon be better than anyone else's. Arthur loved apples, but his home in England had no larger garden so his mother had never been able to grow any. He couldn't wait until the apples would ripen and he'd be able to pester her about baking apple cakes.

"I wonder if they are sweeter than the ones grandma used to bake with?" he asked and held up one of his stuffed toys in front of him. It was a mint-coloured bunny plush toy.

"They look delicious." the bunny answered.

"I am certain they are." a light blue unicorn said from the top of his bookcase.

"What do you think?" Arthur asked Pooh, his third friend, who lay face down on the floor.

"I don't know. But stealing is wrong. Oh, this is so difficult." Pooh said, not moving. Arthur guessed he was philosophising again.

Arthur contemplated Poohs words for a moment, but he still could see those ripened red apples in front of him. For the moment he decided to ignore Pooh's words.

"I bet Francis knows how to climb into those trees." the unicorn said.

"I am never asking _him_ for help." Arthur objected.

"But he probably knows. He showed us where everything is here." the unicorn explained wisely.

"He is not so bad." Flying Mint Bunny said with a smile, her little green ears flopped expectedly.

"Yes." Pooh agreed.

Arthur shook his head.

"I am never, ever, befriending a frog." he said loudly, loud enough for Allistor to hear and curiously open the door to see his little brother among his plush toys.

"What are ye doin'?"

"Talking... get out!"

"With you'self again? Arthur, ye needs friends. Go out, talk to tha' French boy ye met."

"You're not mum." Arthur objected.

"No, A am ye brother ye twat." Allistor marched up with quick long strides, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out. Arthur protested loudly and put his heels in the ground. They struggled like this for a moment when the doorbell rang.

Allistor reluctantly let him go and hurried down the stairs to the door. Arthur knew he should have hurried back to barricade the door, but his curiosity got the better of him. He quietly followed his brother.

But from the end of the stairs he could hear his brother talking, and that brought him to an immediate stop.

"Francis, good to see ye. How are ye?"

"I am well... is Arthur 'ere?"

"Yes, he is. _Arthur_!"

Arthur groaned.

"Francis is here, you will get out and play!" the last was not an order, it was a statement. Arthur knew that if he did not obey, Allistor would make things hell for him. He already once had to save his little Mint Bunny from the scissors.

Arthur slowly walked to the door, and tried his best to drag on as long as possible. He saw Francis curiously looking at the house. He seemed oblivious to Arthur's dislikes and Arthur couldn't help but to wonder what the French boy was thinking. Was he as he'd imagined, looking down upon them from that higher hierarchy that he so often imagined the French to put themselves upon? Or was he impressed, that the British had such refined tastes that it put him out of words?

In any case Francis didn't seem to dwell on either, instead he turned to Allistor with a gentle smile.

"I was wondering, since _maman_ asked me to tell, if Arthur would like to join us by the lake? Me and our _amies_ would like to go for a swim."

Arthur stopped instantly, his mind boggled and he fought for the words, but Allistor spoke first.

"A am sorry Francis, ma mam would kill me. Arthur can't swim." and for once Arthur knew Allistor was serious. Their mother was frightened of the sea, they never went by boat unless she had no other options.

Arthur felt as if he wanted to die from embarrassment. What would Francis think of him? A island born who couldn't swim, all this because Allistor never bothered to teach him. To his great surprise, Francis simply smiled.

"Don't worry, _mon cher_. I am good at swimming myself. Me and the girls can teach him."

"I see... Arthur, grab ye trunks and go! A have some business to do, get out!" Allistor said clearly and brandished, to Arthur's horror, the very same scissors that had once only been inches away from his precious bunny.

Arthur ran upstairs again, grabbed his bathing-trunks from his wardrobes and simply put it into a plastic grocery bag. Before he left he firmly buried Flying Mint Bunny beneath a pile of shirts. He needed to keep his friend as well away from sight from Allistor as possible.

If he could choose between Francis and the torture his brother loved to place on him every day, he for once decided to chose Francis. Not because the French boy was better, but because he had those scissors in mind. Before he left the room he safely made sure to close the door and lock it, he had a key he had stolen from his mother's underwear drawer. Before he left the house he made sure not forget the green cape that had quickly become his favourite.

Francis had, as he often did, arrived on his bike. Arthur saw that he too had brought the royal blue cape that Marie had made for him.

The lake lay close to the village and was a popular area for the children to spend their summers. The village was located too far from sea to go anywhere near a proper beach, so the best place for swimming and other fun activities was that small lake. Arthur's teacher, Mademoiselle Bonnerose, had explained that many, many... he honestly didn't know how many, years ago people settled near the lake. Thinking about it, Arthur couldn't help but to feel like one of these settlers. Completely left out to everything.

So maybe it isn't surprising then that he wasn't too ecstatic about this trip, though it turned out all three of the girls were. The three girls, Julie, Delphine and Marie had already changed into bathing suits and lay on the grass waiting for them, giggling madly when Francis stopped. Arthur would never understand girls and their giggles, it made no sense.

"Mes amies! I 'ave arrived!" Francis said eloquently with a wide gestures to only be met by even more giggles. Arthur didn't know whether he'd gag or simply roll his eyes, but he hated this part of his new friend. However, Francis did not dwell on it. He resembled a young French prince in his blue cape and golden hair, that it seemed to have sparked Julie's imagination, who almost seemed to jump from the grass and hurried to them.

"Do you boys want to play?" she asked excitedly. "We're building a raft, and if we hurry we can sail it soon enough."

Francis face lit up, but Arthur groaned. He knew he'd be left out, as Allistor said, there was no way Arthur's mother would allow him near that thing.

"We'd love to." Francis said, but then his face turned slightly more serious. "Alas, we seem to have a little problem. You see, our dear Arthur... Allistor told me he does not know 'ow to swim yet."

"Oh," Julie said and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that can be fixed." She turned to Arthur. "Arthur, would you like to _learn_ 'ow to swim?"

Arthur was about to say no, he wasn't really that interested in the topic even if it was embarrassing not to be able to swim. But Francis answered for him.

"Our answer is yes, oui?" Francis said and smiled at Arthur. Arthur wanted to say he was certainly not interested in any kind of watery activity, but Julie's face shone with happiness and he couldn't find the words to say no.

Julie ran back to Delphine and Marie and said something in very rapid French. After a few minutes the two girls shrugged and walked off towards some rockier areas of the lake. Julie however took off towards the lake and shouted at Francis to do something, but Arthur didn't understand what. She spoke too fast.

He didn't get it until Francis handed him the plastic bag that contained his bathing trunks and said: "Arthur, we must change."

There was no specific area to change, so they hid among some bushes. He was well aware how awkward it felt, but it shouldn't be. Even if Francis was older they were both boys. He shouldn't feel awkward. He changed quickly and then waited while Francis took time to keep his hair tied back neatly. With his longer hair and slim figure the French boy looked more girly than ever, and Arthur felt quite proud of himself to deduce that out of them two of them, he clearly was the manliest. Despite being so young.

A few minutes later Arthur felt far from manly; he felt scared. The water was cold. It was colder than he expected for such warm day and he started to shiver. Francis had already started to swim to deeper water, but Julie stayed with him. Arthur felt like crying a little, but he kept his tears to himself. He felt slightly like an outsider while Francis gracefully broke through the still surface.

But Julie turned out to be an excellent teacher. She showed Arthur how to kick the water to get speed and how he needed to push the water away from the direction he wanted to go to whilst his head had to remain above the surface. They took it slowly and while he was still far from the graceful swan that Francis was, he at least managed to stay on the surface of the water long enough to not resemble a drowning dog. Julie was pleased and called him her best student so far and Arthur couldn't help but to smile.

Francis also soon joined them and it turned out he was quite the teaser when he felt like it. Despite the efforts he put earlier on his hair he would dive below the surface and do his best to poke Arthur's sides to tickle him. More than once would Arthur experience a wave of water over him, and very soon a war erupted between the two of them.

After an hour of swimming lessons and random moments of splash war all three girls had to leave. Julie explained that they would be heading to Moulins for the week to visit her pépé or grandfather in common English. That left Francis and Arthur alone for a while until Arthur knew his mother would start to worry for him.

As they sat among the rocks, waiting for their bodies to dry in the late afternoon summer heat the talked.

"You see it, Arthur?" Francis asked and pointed at some knotted tree-trunks by the grass. "That is the start of our raft. In a few weeks we 'ope to sail it on the lake. I 'ope you can join us by then." Francis was speaking in English again, and it was clear by the accent he still had to practise more to master it.

"Of course I will." Arthur said with a smirk. "You saw me earlier, I can swim now."

Francis laughed heartily.

"I still think you might need a few more lessons, mon ami." he said and touched Arthur's still damp hair. "Or you might end up very wet."

"So did you."

""Yes, but I dove into the water. You... 'ow do I say it, looked more like a cat in water."

Arthur snorted. "I am no cat, you frog!" he meant it as an insult, but Francis seemed to take it as a metaphor.

"Well, I did master the art of swimming two years ago. I can swim over two 'undred metres on my own."

Arthur flared his nostrils. "You are older than me!"

" _C'est vrai._ "

"I still don't know much about you. It's beyond me why everyone seem to think we are friends."

Francis smile disappeared momentarily, but then he looked away from Arthur to the lake.

"So ask then, mon ami."

"What?"

"Ask me, ask me anything you'd like to know."

Arthur's head turned faster than a horsewhip. At first he thought he had not heard Francis right, secondly he concluded the French boy was simply an idiot. But he was curious, and curiosity sadly was among his stronger traits.

"Have you always lived here?"

"Non, maman says I was born in Paris. Mon père is some sort of diplomat, and 'e works there. But, Paris' air is bad, maman says it made her sick. So, we moved 'ere when I was four."

"So, your dad is still in Paris?"

"I don't know."

Arthur blinked. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"'e's often in Africa, so I don't know."

"Oh..."

"What about your own father, where is 'e?" Francis asked. Arthur scoffed.

"I don't care about that bugger. He walked out on mum when I was two. Then mum went and met that Irish bloke and had the twins, and he too disappeared."

"Your poor mother..."

"Mum's fine. She has to work a lot though. Since we're four."

Arthur pondered for a while.

"So how about you, any siblings at all?"

Francis shook his head. "Non, I am alone. I 'ave a cousin, but 'e lives in Poland."

"You mean that poor place?"

"That is rude!" Francis reprimanded. "Feliks' mother makes clothes, she draws them and someone makes them for 'er."

"Oh, she's a designer." Arthur said as he figured it out. He didn't know much about designers, but he had seen many of his mother's magazines at the house, with the slim girls with make up and fancy dresses.

"Yes, and Feliks says they live in a big 'ouse in Warzaw."

"Bigger than yours?" Arthur asked sceptically.

"Much bigger." Francis said dreamily. "And 'e 'as these amazing paintings and sculptured in 'is 'ome. I am actually a bit jealous of 'im."

Arthur shrugged.

"I am serious." Francis said. "I love art. Maman took me to see Le Louvre once and it was magnifique!"

"Well... I love books." Arthur said, but in the way Francis described his passion for beauty he knew this seemed insignificant somehow.

"I like books too" Francis said with a smile. "But sometimes words cannot explain what a painting or a picture says."

"They do a good job though." Arthur mumbled. Francis snickered.

"Oh, don't feel bad. I did say I like books. But you want to know a secret?"

"What?" Arthur asked, eager to know.

"My dream doesn't involve paintings or any kind of art. One day, when I am a grown-up, I want to make wine."

Arthur blinked. This was the last of his expectations.

"What? What does that mean?"

"I want to make wine. I want to make people 'appy with a good taste."

"You don't even know what wine tastes like. Or 'as your parents ever let you taste it?" Arthur asked, slightly worried for how much older Francis was.

"Non, I 'aven't. But, papa says it tastes amazing, and I believe 'im. What about you, do you 'ave any dreams?"

"Of course."

"Really?"

"Yes, I want to be a pirate."

Francis blinked, then he broke into an amused smile.

"Really? And you thought I was weird."

"I did not. But I want to travel, and then I will write down all my travels into a book. I will go on many adventures and sail the seven seas."

"That sounds like a good plan. Could I, as they say, perhaps get to travel with you one day?"

"Maybe." Arthur said and found to his surprise that he actually meant it.

"Bon... oh, look Arthur. It is getting late and I need to go 'ome. 'ow about we come back 'ere tomorrow, then we can practise swimming again."

Arthur thought for a moment. He truly wanted to best Francis one day and he really wanted to get on that raft as well. He had never been on one. "Fine" he said. He and Francis quickly redressed in their capes and within a few minutes they were once more back on the road.

As the wind swept his face Arthur concluded two things. One, his mother was going to throw a fit about him having swimming lessons. Secondly, he guessed he had to say that Francis may not be as bad as he first thought...

Empathised on ' _may'_.

 _TBC_

A/N: I have a tumblr connected to the rollercoaster that is known as this story. If you want to find more information, ask questions or generally follow me and my many thoughts and thinkings about what I write, please it out at: sunshineauthorsnotes dot tumblr dot com


	3. Childhood part III

A/N: Today's chapter is primarily based of the two pictures seen at 03:07 to 03:11 from the AMV Listen to your heart by AvariceRose. I will probably refer to some of these pictures from time to time. The thought-process for this story in correlation to the AMV is one very complicated one, as you can probably see, it is mainly a hopscotch of pictures to go by.

 **Chapter 3**

 **The Apple Incident**

Arthur's lessons over the summer progressed pretty well as the weeks followed. While he still couldn't be seen as a graceful swan on the surface of the water, he had enough skills to swim a few metres before he'd need any sort of assistance. Francis was pleased. The village children were still working on the raft so Arthur had a few more weeks to learn. He just wanted to prove himself to be the best. The progress of the raft took its time, and the children had difficulties keeping the raft from breaking apart. Some of the adults eventually volunteered to properly put it together using hammers and nails. But this also meant that they had to wait for their father's to get home from work before any progress could be made.

So, while they waited Arthur and Francis could more and more be often seen by the village market or sitting on the high wall between their houses. Today, mid July, was one of these days when they had decided to meet up at wall, the point between the places they both lived. On these last couple of weeks their friendship grew a little for each day. Arthur slowly had to admit to himself, and Francis, that the French boy wasn't such an awful being as he first thought. Though he would never ever stop to call him a frog.

Francis didn't seem to mind somehow, and would bounce it back by calling Arthur a _Rosbif_ , namely a roast beef. Arthur did not understand why exactly, but he didn't find it remotely as insulting as being called anything similar to a slimy creature.

But today was not a day of insults. Arthur was once again staring at the large old apple trees by one of the neighbours' gardens. He often did so. He remembered the old trees his mother had in their backyard when they stayed in London. It had been a small tree and the apples were small and sour. These apples seemed to rival even those that could be found at the most expensive markets. Arthur dismissively looked back at the trees closest to him. The trees his mother owned now just had to be smaller, and it was unfair.

The large apples shone like red lanterns in the afternoon sun and he was hungry. It was a rather windy day, so both boys wore the now trademark capes they owned.

"Francis, have you seen the apples?"

"Oui, what about them?"

"Don't you think the apples look bigger over there than the ones my mother has?"

Arthur followed Francis gaze as the French boy looked at the apples the neighbour had and then thoughtfully looked at the apples from Arthur's garden.

"I don't know, possibly." Francis said and smiled.

Arthur thought for a moment. For a while he really wanted to simply go there and look for himself but he was nervous. He had no idea who lived there and in his mind he saw himself being chased off by some giant French man with a dog barking behind his heels. Arthur had heard barks on occasion coming from this garden and he would be lying if he said that this didn't scare him.

On one hand he'd probably get in some deep troubles and his mother would certainly reprimand him if she found out. But, Arthur loved apples and he had to know.

And they did look very good, despite it only being July.

"Mon ami, where are you going?" Francis asked as Arthur suddenly jumped down from the wall and landed on the roof of the woodshed that stood right by the wall on Francis' side of the wall. Arthur knew Francis took this method to climb the wall, much like he had found some steadier branches that he tended to take on his side.

"I'm going to investigate."

" _Un moment_ , I'll come as well." Francis said and followed him. With Arthur in the lead, they hurried to the neighbouring garden that Arthur so often had wanted to see,only to be met by loud barks.

Arthur stopped for a moment, but Francis smiled and unhooked the wooden gates. "Don't be scared." he said and walked in.

Arthur followed and once he had crossed the border he gasped.

The apple trees were much taller than he'd ever imagined them to be from his window. The trees had to be very old, because even Francis, who was older, couldn't hug a tree and connect so much as a finger by doing so. The branches were very thick, and the trees rose high into the sky with great crowns of dark and lighter green leaves where yet some sunlight was able to penetrate through like a starry sky. On these branches hung large, big apples of red and green apples mixed together.

As he stood there mesmerised by the sight of apples in front of him, something dark ran up to him. Arthur jumped until he saw a small female Scottish terrier that ran quickly towards him, tongue hanging loosely from the mouth.

"Bonjour Lulu!" Francis said and the small dog leapt straight towards him. However, she didn't get very far as she had been tied back to a pole, probably not to escape.

Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief he didn't realise he had in him. Then he quickly remembered his original goal. Since he was so close he took a big jump to reach the branches that were indeed further up than he had thought. To his annoyance he found that he was not tall enough to reach them.

Francis however had seen him and smiled knowingly. He disappeared for a minute only to reappear with a wooden stepladder. He held onto the ladder while Arthur climbed up and got his hands firmly around a branch. From here, much like a monkey, he swung his legs around and soon instincts kicked in to climb higher.

Francis quickly followed ready to join his friend. Scraped from branches and twigs, but high from the euphoria of their adventures, they found themselves well hidden within the crowns and the riches of apples around them.

"Look, you can see through miles around." Arthur said with glee in his voice as he looked around. Indeed he was right, the view was grand. He could even see the lake and the houses of the village. Francis smiled. Arthur leant down to pick one of the large apples.

"Careful!" Francis warned, but he didn't seem to need to worry. Arthur quickly grabbed the large red apple and sat down on the branch to eat. The apple was big, bigger than the fist of an adult hand, and he had to hold onto it with both hands. He turned it in his hands, observed the thin skin for any signs of bugs and when he found none he bit down onto it.

His eyes widened slightly as he chewed. Francis was silent and observed him, curious of the result. Then Arthur turned around.

"Francis, these are much better than the ones on our tree!" Arthur said victoriously.

"Honhonhon" Francis said in a matter that sounded as a chuckle or a laugh, than he too joined into the feast. There were apples on every branch, and Arthur was hungry. He ate another apple and then another. The apples were all juicy and sweet and tasted better than any apple he had ever tasted.

"Slow down, mon ami." Francis urged seeing how Arthur devoured the fruits. "You are going to choke."

Arthur glared at him, he was in paradise after all. But he did slow down. Some of the juice had trickled from his lips and now made a syrupy coat of sticky substance that he tried to rub off with a corner of his cape, but Francis, reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out a napkin for him.

"So, what's next?" Francis asked.

"Huh?" Arthur said quizzically. "What do you mean with ' _What's next?_ ' really?"

"I mean, what do you want to do next time? Now you've tasted the apples."

"Oh" Arthur said. He hadn't really thought about it. Lips pressed together and eyes closed he envisioned hard to come up with something to say, and to his surprise he saw a dozen of wooden logs nailed together. He saw it, rocking on the waves of the southern summer wind. Yes, he'd like to sail it.

"The raft." Arthur said softly. I'd like to sail the raft.

"Oh, is that so, captain." Francis said with a smirk. "Say" he continued while picking another apple for himself. "What would such a voyage lead?"

Arthur put his finger to his chin and tried to envision what the journey would lead. In his mind he pictured white shores, followed by thick jungles of palm trees. Then there would be a volcano and in this volcano there would be a dark and deep cave and at the end of the cave a large chest of gold. But he did not mention any of this.

"Well," Francis said as he did not receive a reply "maybe I should captain the ship then, and then we'd visit and steal the arts of the ancient capitals of old time, and meet all the fine ladies, and..."

Arthur's imagination was disrupted with this description, with images he did not understand how they'd matter. It took him a few seconds to realise that Francis words had somehow crossed into his daydreams. Then he shook his head, stared wide eyed at his friend and finally crossed his arms.

"What, you don't like my idea?" Francis asked with yet another smirk.

Arthur threw his hands in the air.

"There is no way, in a million years, that I'd allow a _frog_ to become captain of any raft... or ship. Not to mention, you are no captain, you're more like some kind of king. A stupid and flamboyant king. I'd rather take orders from Allistor than ever be the lackey of some French captain who will steer us to a sea monster, you hear me _frog_!"

For a minute Francis was silent. Then he stared at Arthur with a look he couldn't properly place.

"The same to you, _Rosbif_."

Silence had now erupted between them, but Arthur did not mind. He shook of the initial conversation by yet another glorious apple. By now he must have eaten close to a dozen and his stomach was starting to protest. Yet, he didn't want to stop. The taste of the apples and the gloriousness of his cunning was an ambrosia too strong for this child to let such things as conscience or morals get to him.

-000-

He even tried to ignore it later that same evening when he was back in his room once more, having ignored the dinner put in front of him. But soon he'd find out there was no way to ignore the aches within his stomach or the evil guilt that threatened to throw itself from his throat.

Arthur had never seen himself as a knight in shining armour, neither was he like those children described as small angels within fairy tales, no. He had many moments in his life where he would wonder if it was true what one of those funny men with the clerical collar had said. That if you did bad deeds then eternal flames would burn your flesh away and your existence would be that of agony. His mother had told him not to listen to such foolishness, but what if the man was right. At the moment, he was sure that the aches of his stomach that despite its roundness felt as if it had a gaping hole that left him feeling cold and helpless.

"I am the worst" Arthur cried softly as silent tears trickled down from his eyes, down his nose to drip onto his pillow.

"Oh Arthur!" Flying Mint Bunny said softly and touched his arm. "Don't feel so bad. The apples were there and they did look tasty."

"And it was exciting, wasn't it. To see if you could taste them too. See, even Francis liked them."

"And he was in on it after all. So, it wasn't all of your fault." Flying Mint Bunny said with a chirp, but her happy attitude didn't have any effect on him.

"Maybe you should talk to Francis in the morning, then apologise. I find that works best. But then again, I am just a bear with a small brain." Pooh said.

Arthur did not reply, instead he took his three friends and hugged them close. He still felt lonely and his stomach hurt, but being surrounded by his friends, imaginary or not, felt better than being there with no one. He knew he had done wrong and that he should apologise. He was simply scared of the outcome.

-000-

Next morning came and the feelings had not subsided. Instead, it lead to a night of unease and insomnia. By the time the sun started to appear Arthur had gotten little sleep and the demons and nightmares of the darkness had been haunting him. Worst was the awful guilt he felt because he knew stealing was wrong. And yet he had gone and done it.

He had turned to his friends, but none were the wiser as to what to do. Flying Mint Bunny's advice had been to run from his problems by reminding him about the fact that all had the right to be curious, words his mother used to speak to him as a young child. Unicorn thought he was being silly, and rationed that it wasn't as if he had tried to steal, he was mainly sating his lust. Even Pooh had agreed to this, stating that he should apologise. Because no one stayed mad at him when he apologised.

But that wasn't all true. He had once apologised to Allistor for a broken game console and received nothing but anger and blame. Still, the second time he had tried to apologise Allistor had forgiven him and apologised back for his anger. Arthur still figured that their mother had something to do with it, especially since the game console was bought for the two of them and breaking it had been an accident.

His head fell back on the pillow, followed by small drops of tears. Morning had arrived, he had barely slept and yet he had not decided on what to do.

The soft sound of footsteps slowly approached from the stairs and towards his door. They stopped, probably as the person reached to it and he heard soft knocks.

"Arthur, breakfast is ready!" his mother said from the other side.

Arthur stared at the door for a few seconds, but his head fell back on the pillow. He wasn't hungry and he didn't feel like eating.

"Arthur?"

Arthur listened to as she tested the doorknob only to find that the door was locked. Arthur sighed and continued to glare at the empty space of his roof. His eyes travelled to the tiny cracks in the paint.

His mother's footsteps suddenly turned and walked away, but returned after a few minutes and he heard the familiar sound of a key being placed into his lock. The was the familiar click and the door opened. His room was lit up by the light of the hallway. His mother walked up to him. She looked worried.

"Arthur? My little baby, why are you locked here into the dark?"

Arthur looked on as his mother sat down beside him. She didn't say anything, just gave him one of her motherly smiles. As a mother of four boys she was used to complications happening every day, and she knew the move had mentally uprooted everyone, even her.

"Mum, am I am evil?" Arthur asked after yet another moment of silence.

His mother looked at him with furrowed brows for a few seconds, then she shook her head.

"No, Arthur. I don't think you are evil. Evil is a very strong word. I know you are very determined, you don't always do what I ask you to do and your curiosity has gotten you in trouble before. But you know, an evil person is someone who doesn't find it in his heart to care for others. And you are far from such a person, son."

Arthur stared at the wall, but he was listening. He just couldn't decide whether he was a bad person or not.

"Now come down and eat a little and we can talk about it. I have to go downstairs. Allistor and I are heading to the shoe-store. That boy, he grows out of his shoes faster than I can buy them for him. With this nice weather I almost ought to make him walk barefoot."

His mother on the weight suddenly disappeared and moments later he could hear her footsteps on the stairs, but he did not follow. His mother did not think of him as a bad person, but what did she know really? She wasn't there when he stole apples, and he was certain that if she knew she wouldn't have been so nice. She had her moments when she would be motherly, but at the same time if she truly did care, then why would she then spend so many hours away from home?

She did not return to him again. He heard about an hour later as the door closed and the chatter of his family die out. Minutes later he heard the car leave the driveway and go down the road. So much for care, really.

"Arthur?"

Arthur jumped from where he lay out of sheer chock. He hadn't even heard him walk up the stairs, but Francis stood by his door, dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, his cape over his left arm.

"Francis? What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Francis knitted his brows.

"Your mother let me in. She seemed a bit worried, she kept asking what we did yesterday. She said you did not eat breakfast today."

Arthur shook his head, but his eyes kept focused on the French boy.

"I see." Francis said. "Well, I did actually not tell 'er."

Arthur blinked.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I thought if you did not, it was not my place to talk. Besides, I wanted to see you. Come." Francis said and smiled. He reached out to Arthur, who hesitated but freely got to his feet. But he did not move.

"Oh Arthur." Francis sighed. "I am not going to 'urt you. But there is something you must see. S'il vous plait, please!" Francis begged, took his hand and dragged him towards the door. At first Arthur put his heels to the ground. He did not want to be forced out, he didn't want to listen to Francis. His very image of the French boy crackled. Of course Francis would prove to be something else, like everyone was.

"Come on!" Francis urged and somehow managed to get him out, down the stairs and through the front door. Arthur wanted to scream at him, kick him, hurt him somehow. He blamed Francis for everything, the guilt he felt, the nightmares he had. He convinced himself Francis was the one at fault. It was much easier to blame someone else than himself.

Yet not a word was said and not a finger raised. Arthur was taken outside and sat silently on the front porch where he somehow landed in surprise. Outside the front door stood an elderly lady, dressed in a green cardigan and white scarf. Her white hair was kept in a neat bun. On her small nose were a pair of spectacles.

" _Ah, Francis. Is this your friend?_ " she said in French, but by now Arthur understood her.

" _Yes, Mrs Dubois_ " Francis said and smiled.

" _Oh, how lovely_." she said, and switched over to some pretty basic English. "'ello Monsieur Arthur, I Madame Dubois, neighbour. I own apples."

Arthur's mouth opened slightly, but he didn't know what to say. Not a sound was uttered.

"Francis told me you like my apples. Mon petit, if you want you ask. I like you take a few. This old body is... Oh Francis, pouvez-vous traduire, s'il vout plait." she said at the puzzled look Arthur had. Then she said something quickly in French and Francis nodded.

"She said, we can pick as many as we want. Her mother planted those trees when she was young, and she too liked to play in them. But now, she is too old and she cannot do anything about it. So, if we want some of her apples we're free to take them. She would like us however to leave her some.

Arthur blinked, then nodded vigorously. Somehow, it felt as if a large stone had dropped from his stomach and he wanted to do anything but to atone for his crimes. Francis smiled gently and helped the elderly neighbour back. Arthur ran to get his cape, took the key that hung on a secret corner of the kitchen, exited the house and locked the door.

By the time he returned to Francis the French boy was helping Madame Dubois enter her own room, the little dog now running around them in circles. Arthur waited until Francis had made sure she was safely and comfortably in a chair before he too hurried to the garden to help Arthur, who once more couldn't manage to climb the branches. After a few minutes they were both climbing wildly like monkeys, competing on who could find the most apples. Time flew as they laughed and chased each other among the branches until the ground below them were covered by apples.

Francis was the first to notice and pointed this out to Arthur who agreed to help out and collect them all. They were given a large basket to put the apples in and once finished Madame Dubois showed Arthur how to cut the apples into pieces, so she could make jams and other tasty treats with them. Arthur had never held a knife in his hand before, but she was very gently to show her how to hold his fingers so he wouldn't cut them and she kept her eyes on him and stopped him if a finger would slip in a dangerous position.

Arthur felt unusually grown helping Madame Dubois with various shores. At his house he was used to the occasional chaos that came with neglect. Surely his mother would clean on weekends and Allistor was a neat-freak when it came to his room. Sometimes Arthur had been told to clean up his mess, but since the twins were born he often felt isolated within his own family. Allistor was the oldest, he was meant to boss and act all grown up. The twins were cute and adorable and of course they got all the attention. But Arthur, who was he?

"Ah, they're done!" he heard Francis said. It had been almost two hours since they arrived at Madame Dubois' house, and Francis put forward a small baked pastry in front of him. It smelled of apples and cinnamon, and he was met with Madame Dubois' gentle smile and some quick French words.

"She asked me to make it for us. When I told her how sad you were, she wanted you to have some. It was wrong of both of us not to talk to her first, but she understands. And this is because we helped her." Francis translated.

" _Merci_ " Arthur said and put his fork in. It was the best treat he had ever had.

"She also said she wants us to take some of these apples home ourselves, since we picked so many." Francis added, and Arthur chuckled. He knew Allistor would not be happy, his brother wasn't too fond of apples for some reason.

-000-

True to what he thought, Allistor had indeed made a fuss about the apples, but their mother had been happy for the delicious free fruit and told Allistor he needed to eat more apples to stay healthy. That very night Arthur sat by his window, apple in hand and Mint Bunny in the other. He was supposed to go to sleep, but didn't feel like it really. It was a starry night and they shone brightly above him, like little diamonds caught in a net above.

"You know what, Mint Bunny." he said quietly. "I know I said he was annoying and French, but Francis isn't like everyone else. Nor is Madamoiselle Bonnerose, nor is Madame Dubois. Do you know what I wish."

"What Arthur?"

"I wish me and Francis can be friends forever."

TBC

A/N:

For the trivia, please visit my tumblr: sunshineauthorsnotes . tumblr . com 

S'il vous plait: Please

Pouvez-vous traduire, s'il vous plait?: Can you please translate?


	4. Childhood part IV

A/N: Next chapter will take a while, not because I am going away, for once, but because I am really behind. I am sorry I've been such a lazy author (yes, it's mainly been laziness, sadly, cannot make excuses and shouldn't either).

Anyway, today's chapter is pretty long, so I hope I can make up for it. For more things regarding this story, please check out my tumblr: sunshineauthorsnotes . tumblr . com

Also, for today I will include the trivia. I don't know if you guys like it or not, the review section and all other means have been very quiet, thus until you say something, I'll keep guessing.

Ps: Even if you do keep silent for all eternity, I know someone still reads this, so for those who do, thank you so much!

 **Chapter 4**

 **Cousin Feliks**

August came with the promise of continued warm winds and even hotter temperatures. For the five newly settled Brits the French summer was pure torture, to the point as to almost unbearable. All the members stayed indoors where the air-conditioner was constantly blowing out cold air. Well this wasn't all true as Allistor happened to note and he could not, for the life of him, understand why Arthur, who generally clung to the house, would suddenly be so eager to get out. Nor would he ever understand how he could run around the village and play.

Arthur had his reasons, and they weren't the usual ones. For the first weeks he had acted like a hermit stuck in his house during a storm. The change had happened when he started hanging out more and more with Francis. The more time he spent with Francis, the more he found that he liked the other boy. He found him loyal, warm and friendly and charming enough to probably be friend with every person in the village. At the same time the French boy had his more peculiar sides. He simply was, girly. This was kind of a relief since Francis otherwise would seem like the perfect little angel in comparison to Arthur, who could be quite rude. In short, they could be complete polar opposites. At least, Arthur was proud to say, out of the two of them he was definitely the manliest.

But his frowns softened as the weeks went by and more of the village children joined in on the games. After weeks of dedicated work by the children and their parents the raft was finished. It was big. Arthur and Francis could easily lie on it and bask in the sun with their three female friends.

The best thing was, since everyone had contributed to the finish of the raft, everyone was free to use it. Today was such a day when a large number of kids had gathered to use the raft as a sort of diving board.

Of course Arthur could not join. His skills on the water was still not good enough to swim above the deepest parts of the lake. So, while the older children dove, he, Francis and the girls practised swimming for later. Luckily today a small football tournament would be held among the children, however neither Francis nor the girls were that interested within the sports itself. Arthur was, but he was apparently too young to play. So they had to wait until the games were about to start before they could play with it.

"Look, the raft is vacant." Julie said after another half an hour of waiting. She spoke in English, which she had been practising. It had been a silent agreement for the girls and Francis to help Arthur understand, and since Arthur's French was far from perfect (though he was steadily getting better)

Julie had been perched as a lookout. Marie and Delphine looked up with glee and tossed the black and white rocks away that they had been using to play nought and crosses. Francis and Arthur were drying up by the sun.

"So it would seem." Francis affirmed and sat up.

Arthur cheered and put his cloak back over his shoulders and his green swimming trunks. The girls hadn't brought anything and already wore their swimming wear. Arthur looked hopefully at Francis, but found to his surprise that his friend didn't seem to share his enthusiasm.

"Francis, hey, frog... Why are you spacing out?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, I am sorry." Francis said softly. "But Julie, what time is it?"

"2,30pm..." the girl said and checked her watch. "Why?"

"Oh..." Francis said. "I am sorry Arthur, maman wanted me 'ome at three. She needs some help, but I should be back soon."

Arthur frowned. This was not what he had expected out of such a nice day.

"Don't do this to me, Arthur." Francis said and sighed and stood up to put on a white jacket loosely. He had forgotten to bring his cape. "I'll be back before you know it. Besides, you have said before that I am too pretty to be a pirate." Francis said, he was already on his way towards his bike.

"Well, fine... suit yourself, princess." Arthur said. Francis had by then reached his bike and simply returned a unusually shy smile.

"Don't worry, we can play without 'im for now." Julie said. "Didn't you say you wanted to sail, Captain Kirkland?"she asked with a smile. Arthur smiled back, about of the three girls Julie, to him, was the nicest. She also had the best English. Apparently, her grandmother came from Northern Ireland.

The girls already wore their swimsuits. Julie took Arthur by the hand as she and the others walked down to the small beach. Arthur had to wait for the three girls to swim out first and get the raft. But soon, Captain Kirkland was ready to sail off, escorted by the mermaids that would lead him to the treasure. Arthur balanced at the front of the raft, which was easier said than done.

"Captain, you look a little wobbly. You sure you did not leave your wooden leg behind?" Julie joked at Arthur's unsteadiness. Arthur put his toes and heels firmly on the wood. He did not like it when people noticed. Marie and Delphine giggled.

" _I think it's cute._ " Marie said in French with a smile.

" _It is. He's like a little woodland creature stuck on the vast sea_." Delphine said.

"Language!" Julie reminded. Arthur smiled at her.

The girls swam with the raft near the beaches and rockier edges of the lake where, if worst came to worst, the water wasn't very deep. If something would have happened they seemed certain Arthur would be fine.

Who knows if he would be, but nothing happened apart from his cloak getting wet and his hat falling into the water. When this happened Marie playfully took it and put it on her head and made such an impressionism of a pirate that it even made Arthur laugh.

"Captain Arthur, I almost forgot. We have to show you our treasure." Julie said suddenly between laughs. By this time they had spent a good portion of time swimming or sailing around the lake.

"Treasure?" Arthur said quizzically. Delphine and Marie looked at each other with a shrug.

"Yes, treasure. Girls, hurry up. We need to guide this ship to the castle!"

"Oh, okay." Delphine said and started to kick the raft into motion again.

The raft slowly started to move towards what Arthur realised would be the pier. He followed the direction and opened his mouth slightly. Francis had returned, and stood at the very edge of the pier looking down at the water. Something had obviously captivated the young French boy, because he was completely still.

Arthur smirked and saw an opportunity to give back for Francis sudden unexplained departure.

"Avast!" Arthur shouted to the girls, meaning for them to speed up. However, his sudden voice seemed to startle Francis who looked up suddenly. This was a mistake, as Francis did not look where he put his feet and accidentally fell into the water.

Seconds later he resurfaced, hair dripping and eyes and mouth wide. He then spotted Arthur and the gaping mouth turned to tired smile. Arthur relaxed a little as the start of a giggle exploded from his lips.

"Honhon" he said calmly. "Very funny, mon cher."

Julie and Marie had by this point stopped pushing the raft to stop and cling to it in silent giggles. Julie had given up on giggling to start laughing outright. Francis shook his head and made an attempt to get back on the pier, but it was out of his reach. His shoulders slumped and he swum over to the raft.

Arthur yelped as he was splashed. Francis climbed on and brought with him a waterfall. The two looked at each other. Arthur with his large hat and wooden sword and Francis who was most likely soaked to the bone looked like a rather odd pair. But then they both joined in laughing.

"Embrassez! Embrassez! La bise!" Delphine suddenly shouted from below. Her cheeks were slightly red.

Arthur looked quizzically at her, he did not understand her demand. That was until Francis said: "She wants us to kiss."

Arthur jerked his head back. "What?"

"You're in France. It's not unheard of for friends to kiss." Francis said and shrugged. Of course, he meant this among girls, but since they were friends, what should it matter?

Arthur's cheeks flamed read, but he slowly leaned forward and put his lips against Francis. He did not notice how Francis eyes widened of shock, nor how the girls gasped. All he noticed was how weird it was and how unusually soft Francis lips felt. The kiss however only lasted a few seconds and was over as quickly as it had come. Arthur looked at Francis for a few seconds, blinked then made a face that obviously showed his dislike.

Francis stared at him, then he laughed once again. The girls joined in, and Arthur did not get it.

Even later, as they walked home together would Francis explain. All though before they walked their separate ways, arriving at Francis' house, Francis bent down slightly to kiss Arthur on the cheek. Arthur would once more jerk his head back, frown and hurry home. It would take several years before he'd grasp the difference between a kiss and a _kiss_.

-000-

Arthur had forgotten most of the kiss the next day as he once more hurried over to Francis house in the morning. His mother had left to attend some business, taking the twins with her. Allistor was asked to take care of Arthur, but since Arthur would once more spend the day with Francis, whom he considered, to be his closest friend, Allistor took as little notice of him as possible. It was similar to the idea to that Arthur could be a fly on the wall. Arthur didn't care though, but simply downed his breakfast and was out of the door with his favourite cape, before Allistor had even left the shower.

Today the clouds were greying and Arthur hurried over in case there would be a downpour. Once at Francis' house his mother opened. She reminded Arthur quite a lot about Francis, they had the same colour of hair and also similar soft features. She was dressed in a simple navy blue dress, patterned with large white lilies that was partly covered by a white apron. Arthur could smell something sweet from the kitchen.

"Francis est dans le jardin." she said, meaning that Francis would be in the garden. Arthur hurriedly took of his shoes (Francis had at one point explained in great detail that Mrs Bonnefoy absolutely hated shoes indoors and was most likely the only person to do so in the entire village), before walking to the other side of the house, towards a second door leading towards the second door that lead to the small back. Mrs Bonnefoy leant him a secondary pair of shoes she preferred, she was very careful around her home and Arthur couldn't help but to feel a little sorry for Francis. His mother had a lot of rules.

"I do not see your point, mon frère." Arthur heard Francis say before he even reached the second set of doors. "In my opinion, this place is lovely.

"Francis, kuzynie, I love you and all that, but I cannot for the life of me understand how you can live in this, grey and boring no-man's-land?"

Arthur came closer and Francis answered, whoever this was, somewhat more enthusiastic.

"Oh Feliks, this is not a barren place. I mean, we are at least connected to the large world. There is the station, you arrived on it, and we 'ave the square which I think is lovely, and you cannot say people here aren't nice. You've seen Paris, my goodness, the Parisians... honhonhon."

Arthur had by now reached the doors and peaked out. He saw Francis at once, dressed in a light blue shirt and jeans. With him was another blond Arthur hadn't seen before. He was dressed in what looked like a silk green shirt, and matching black trousers. He also wore polished shoes, something Arthur couldn't believe anyone could stand in this heat.

Francis noticed his arrival and smiled widely. "Arthur, I did not expect you." he said. The French boy put his hand on the other blond's shoulder. "Arthur, meet Feliks. Feliks is my cousin visiting from Poland. I am sorry for yesterday, but Maman wanted me to go down to the station and meet Feliks there."

Arthur could tell that Feliks was eyeing, much like analysing him. Instead of staring back he stretched out his hand, as his mother had told him to do, and said: "Hello, I am Arthur Kirkland."

Feliks held out his hand, but not in the usual fashion. Instead of meeting Arthur's hand he held it high, close to Arthur's face. Arthur did not understand.

After some awkward minutes Feliks sighed and dropped his hand.

"Are you one of those?" he asked.

"Pardon?" Arthur answered and blinked.

"Those... those... oh, I don't know the word for it, but as my mother says it. There are educated children in this world, and there are uneducated children in this world. Are you one of those?"

Arthur blinked again, but then clasped his hands tightly.

"What do you mean, exactly?" he asked slowly, doing his best to act civilised since Feliks was Francis cousin after all, while his insides wished to simply throw himself at him and punch him.

"My parents are very important, much like Francis' father. I, myself, was given the best education in Warzaw. We live in a mansion, and we have servants. What about you?"

Francis shook his head.

"Feliks, you are being rude." he said, surprising Arthur, but he was grateful he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"But Francis, look at the way he is dressed." Feliks said and pointed at Arthur's green cape. Arthur's hand slowly reached up to grab onto it. He felt insecure as to what Feliks wanted to say about this.

Feliks raised his hand to his forehead in a overly dramatic gesture. "You know" he said to Francis "it is so hard these days to find people who appreciate good fashion. I mean, look at that thing. I bet it is made out of cotton, very cheap cotton. And the handiwork, no, not good at all. I can see seams. Unlike this." Feliks continued and from behind him he pulled up his own cape. Much like his shirt it was made from the same material, and set to match.

"It does look good on you." Francis admitted. Arthur felt hurt.

"Of course it does. I can get one for you as well." Feliks said.

"No thank you, I'd 'ave no use for it 'ere. Besides, I like mine as it is."

Feliks shrugged dramatically. "Ah, kuzynie, you could have dressed as a prince with your charm. And yet, you are as downtrodden as all these other donkeys."

Francis shook his head. "It's not that I think of myself as beneath others, but you know. If I'd be someone else but me, I am pretty sure people would come to miss me. After all, I 'ave many who care deeply for me." he then leant forward slightly, so that Arthur barely heard him. "But you know, we do look the best around 'ere."

Arthur shook his head. People were just, weird. Feliks seemed to take note of his behaviour, and so his attention turned back to Arthur.

"May I ask, where are you from?"

"England." Arthur answered.

"I can tell you are from England, it's quite obvious. But from where in England?"

"London."

"Oh," Feliks said and sounded genuinely surprised for a short moment. "Then why are you here? Did they kick you out for your bad fashion?"

Francis chuckled and quickly raised his hand to stifle a laughter. Arthur's ears reddened.

"Mum works here." Arthur growled.

"And your dad?"

"He can rot."

Arthur decided that he liked Feliks less and less. The way that Feliks was playing with the silk in his clothes gave him the image of a peacock. Arthur remembered that Allistor once told him that Eastern Europeans were poor, so it baffled him how Feliks wore such nice clothing, and even seemed to think that anything beneath his world had no standard.

Feliks seemed as little interested in Arthur as a you could be when there is a fly on the wall. He had already seemingly forgotten him, and turned back to his cousin to show him pictures from some shopping spree in Warzaw. When he tried to say something Feliks didn't even bother to listen, but purposely put himself between the annoyed Brit and the somewhat easily-distracted French boy.

Arthur couldn't do anything to stop it, so he left. He returned indoors where Madame Bonnefoy sat by the large table polishing silver. She noticed Arthur's sour demeanour at once and smiled.

"Arthur, asseyez-vous s'il vous plait." she said and patted the seat beside her. He did. Francis mother put down the silver spoon she held in her hand, her eyes were very blue. They had the same shade of blue as Francis.

"I am sorry." she said and switched to English, she was very good at it. There was hardly any trace of French in her accent. "Francis and Feliks rarely see each other. My sister, God bless her, moved to Warzaw some years ago to study, and she met her husband there. Since then I hardly see her myself. Much like myself, she married well and her husband makes good money, but while I try my best to raise Francis to be a caring young boy, I am afraid Feliks is quite spoiled. I know this is probably a little hard on you, I see your family and I know your mother work so hard. But bear with it, Feliks will be going home soon. Then you two can play some more before summer ends."

She looked over her shoulder to see that by now Feliks had dragged Francis away to sit in a canopy swing beneath a large tree. The cousins spoke with their heads close.

"Arthur, I know this is not what you wanted out of your day. Do you know what, if you allow me to finish, I can take you down to the village for a while. Francis forgot to bring back a bottle of olive oil that I asked Monsieur Garcia to put away for me. Would you mind making me company?"

Arthur smiled. He had no intentions of going home. He did not want to face Allistor or his hundreds of questions that would likely come if he came home before noon. And Francis mother was nice, a little weird and odd at times, but she genuinely seemed to like children.

It didn't take very long for her either to finish polishing the last few spoons. And half an hour later Arthur sat beside Madame Bonnefoy on a seat-cushion as the trees and houses whizzed by. It was a short ride, but not by any means unpleasant. Francis mother played jazzy music in her car while she joked about several of the people they passed. She knew everyone, and it was clear to Arthur how Francis seemed to know everyone. Here you had no secrets, here you were a community and a group. Here, you cared for everyone.

Arthur really liked that.

Ten minutes later they were both inside the local farmer's store where Madame Bonnefoy received her bottle of extra virgin olive oil and Arthur had his first taste of Brie de Meaux (he didn't really like it). She also bought two bottles of orange lemonade, one bottle which Arthur could bring home.

Arthur seemed to fascinate everyone. There were many among the village, in particular among the women, who came up to look at him, or touch his cheek or say something. It got annoying after a while with all of the attention, but Madame Bonnefoy simply smiled and said that people rarely moved to the village, so they all wanted to have a good look at him.

And all the attention thankfully also came with something good.

"I am so happy you came here." One of the elder ladies known as Madame Ruiz said to Arthur, she was one of those women who kept coming back to poke some more on his cheeks. Arthur wasn't sure what to think of her. She was quite the eccentric woman dressed in a pink dress with lace gloves and a large pink hat. She had a small pug with her tucked back by a leather leash, and Arthur was surprised how well it walked considering how round it was.

"I mean, we seldom see people pass by, unless the autumn harvest festival arrives and then, maybe just then, some of those townsfolk will make it here. But really, back in my days, it took us days sometimes to travel just about anywhere. People these days... they don't understand their luxuries."

Arthur was shoved a thin cone full of, to his pleasant surprise, a bunch of toffee, which he was allowed to eat as many as he'd like.

"I am sure we can make a proper Frenchman our of you!" Madame Ruiz continued.

"You do know he is British?" one younger man said who helped carrying on a box of radishes.

"Whatever, we all won the war after all, we're all decent people here." and she gave Arthur some peppermint candies as well. Arthur had never been given so much candy, and he couldn't understand why anyone would carry it around.

"Ignore her." the man said and nodded toward Mr Garcia. "She's been like that ever since her brother got his medal for service of the country. Not that she ought to remember, the war was long ago, and she was just a kid like you then. She's all high and mighty because her husband owns the café in the village, best business around. All the couples go there, and the teens, when they return home from university."

"They don't stay?"

"No, not at all. I went myself some years back, but my dad needed help with the farm so I came back home. I love Paris and the big cities, but here it is more tranquil, and less stress. But every summer many do return to their parents, to visit or to relax some."

"Do you think I'll do that too?" Arthur asked. He knew about universities, his mother had a degree or whatever it was called. And there was the big University where he had lived, in London.

"Oh, you might. You seem like a smart kid for your age, I am sure you will. But never forget, the roads here always welcome you home."

Monsieur Garcia, who was a muscular man with a lot of upper body strength came in carrying large boxes of wine.

"Aren't you a little too sentimental for your young age, get back to work. Madame Ruiz, I will send your husband the bags of flour he want. Now out, you are all blocking the door and there is a line waiting."

Arthur and Madame Bonnefoy bid their farewells to the crowd and left. Arthur was silent at first, but then he kept thinking of how people acted.

"May I ask something?" Arthur asked after a while. "How come you are helping me?"

"Pardon?" Madame Bonnefoy said and raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, I know you are Francis mother, but you didn't need to look after me." he was very close to add that he was quite grown himself. She laughed.

"Oh, mon petit. I don't mind at all. Besides, your family are very nice neighbours, and that is what we do. We help each other. Believe me, you are never alone when you don't want to be. I've heard from Francis that you often lock yourself to your room, but you don't need to do that here."

She leaned down slightly, so that her lips almost touched the love of his ear.

"And I know Francis will be very curious of our little trip, so can you keep a secret?"

Arthur nodded.

"Let's keep our mission secret, then he can feel a little bad because honestly. That boy sometimes has the habit of forgetting things. He may not seem like it, but he can get a little distracted of himself."

Arthur blinked, then opened and closed his mouth to try to find something to say. But after a while he returned the shy but cunning smile that seemed to mimic Madame Bonnefoy quite well.

She drove her back to his house. His mother was quite confused to see him arrive with Francis mother and Francis not being anywhere in sight. But then he told her about the village and the people he met and she relaxed some. She was happy after all that her son was settling in quite well.

-000-

Much like Madame Bonnefoy had said Francis did return back to his company after a few days, but Arthur didn't feel sad in the same way anymore. Every morning he went with his mother who would drop him in the village. There he found odd jobs to help out a little and find something to preoccupy his days. He ran errands for Monsieur Garcia and he got to meet Monsieur Ruiz, the husband of Madame Ruiz, and got to watch him bake and tend to customers. Everyone seemed to be busy and he felt as if he wanted to explore this new world he lived within. He hadn't even spoken to any of his _friends_ for a few days because he was so tired when he got home.

He soon discovered many things about the village. He liked Monsieur Garcia, he was the kind of man who knew what he wanted and he was an expert of keeping boys in a straight line and march. He liked Madame Ruiz a little, even if she was quite weird and her pug was even weirder. Some people he soon realised he was not so happy about, there was a postman that seemed to growl at everyone and one of the girls from the pharmacy had a crush on a student, but ever since he dumped her before even giving her a chance you stayed out of her way if you met her.

Worst was yet Allistor, who had friends of his own and none of them seemed to like Arthur. Arthur did his best to stay away from them whenever he heard Allistor's voice carried by wind.

But this afternoon Arthur was not down by the village, instead Francis had once more cycled by his house to fetch him before they went to the bridge.

"I am sorry." Francis said as they both stood leaning at the rail of the bridge. Arthur was leaning a little more than usual with a long stick. He had one ear open to her the apology, but in all honesty, he didn't feel like it was the worst experience he had ever had.

"I am sorry. I just don't see Feliks often, and we 'ad so much to catch up with. I didn't even think you might be lonely, and then mother says you and 'er went to the village on your own."

Arthur leaned back again to stand properly on the bridge. He honestly had no need to hear an apology for something that was so stupid.

"You don't need to apologise." he said and tossed the twig away. It wasn't good enough.

"Pardon?"

"You don't need to apologise, of course you spend time with family. I honestly haven't seen my cousin either for a few years. And he lives in Wales."

Francis blinked.

"So... why are you so silent then?" he asked.

"I was trying to find the perfect stick. If you want to play, see whose stick beats the other."

Arthur spotted another stick on the other side of the bridge and ran over. It took a while but Francis too realised what Arthur wanted to do, and he too hurried to find one himself. Soon they both stood leaning over one side of the bridge, a new game of pooh sticks soon to commence.

"Ready?" Arthur asked.

"Oui, trois, deux, un..."

TBC

 **Trivia:**

 **Pirates:** The AMV _Listen to your heart_ featured a lot of historical pictures. I struggled for some time between doing an historical story or a modern story. But, the problems with this story is that I wanted a French environment and doing a French historical environment would be quite difficult as sources of historical French environment, culture and etiquette would take a lot of research and I haven't had the time to put myself into that kind of research. There will be a lot more elements in this story that might seem a bit old fashioned, so as for all those wonderful historical glimpses, I feel bad I cannot do more to include then than games and imaginations.

 **Kisses:** Don't get any ideas. Kissing is not unheard of in many arts of the world, and is done as a greeting between friends. Kissing in France is common on the cheek between friends. Arthur's knowledge of this however is limited, so when Francis told him to kiss he thought it was on the mouth. Trust me, it surprised everyone!

Originally I was going to keep this on the cheek and make less fuss about it, but in the last second I changed it. It amazes me sometimes how kissing in seen between cultures. Sometimes people make such a fuss about it, like _true love's kiss_ or _special kisses_. Personally, I lived through a childhood of a variation of kissing games, yeah... that's how we do it North.

And when I meant that there are several countries that greet each other by kisses, when I was in China my Italian friend would always kiss on the cheek twice when we saw each other. At first I wasn't prepared because I had forgotten, plain to say. But, it's not weird, so I went with it the second time.

 **Shoe policies:** From what I can gather going through forums on the internet, there isn't a set rule as to whether you should or should not wear shoes indoors in France. It seems to be down to whoever you visit. Still, I like the idea that Francis' mother would be one of the more obsessed mothers when it comes to cleanliness.

In all honesty, when I grew up I learnt you should never wear shoes indoors. I'm from Sweden, and here it would be a pain since the only really nice season are down to one or two months a year, the rest is either cold, wet or full of snow. If you live in any snowy region, you know how much snow that can enter the house, hence we leave our boots by the door.

Naturally, many cultures don't do this, but it is the curriculum in not just Northern Europe but also South Korea and Japan. And believe me or not, it is easier to keep a house clean, if you do not bring the mud or dust indoors.

 **A/N:** I apologise for Feliks behaviour, I know Poles do not extend their hands and expect people to kiss them. Feliks is just a really spoiled brat, and I wanted Arthur to find someone whom he could truly dislike.

In all honesty, I find Poland in Hetalia hilarious. I am sure he must be among the most annoying type of people you can ever encounter, but that goes for more than half of these characters... -stares at America and shivers-

I should also apologise to all the children out there. I feel like I did the lake-game too short, but I truly ran out of ideas as to what a couple of eleven/twelve year-olds would play by the water. I just wanted that small kiss between them. Don't judge me, I thought it would be sweet, by no means perverted.

 _kuzynie:_ cousin (Polish)

 _football:_ For all your Americans out there, no, it's not the American football. Sorry, my bad, I was raised with British English and thus I mean soccer. I have most likely butchered this on a number of occasions, as I have grown more and more accustomed to American words, but since I live pretty close to the UK and pretty far from the US, I have a tendency to keep my spelling on UK English.


	5. Childhood part V

A/N: I am sorry for the short chapter length, but this is the final chapter among the earlier childhood chapters. I hope somehow you will still be able to follow. Some of the topics I realise might be a bit mature for their ages in this story, but the _vineyard_ is a very important part of this story. And they live among these old gardens, so I figured it wouldn't be surprising if they'd know a lot about them by now.

I will try to update the next one as soon as possible, but I've been on a few weeks break on writing. Do not worry, I don't plan to quit the story or anything, but life has kind of been a turmoil since this summer and I have yet to get used to it. So writing lost some of its former meaning for me, but I still love it. I guess I am just becoming more critical.

 **Chapter 5**

 **The Promise**

Summer ended sooner than they expected. Allistor still complained that summer would probably never be over as it should be impossible for temperatures to still be this hight in September. He didn't know how much milder the French weather was to the British one. Arthur and all the residents at the house still found themselves back to daily routines and continued life as it slowly settled.

Something had changed Arthur over the course of that summer. When he returned to school he found he had an easier time connecting to the children than before and it wasn't as hard anymore to ask if he could join a game or if he could help out. His teacher Mademoiselle Bonnerose quickly noticed this as well, and she was the first one to greet him back with a smile.

Today was Sunday, so Arthur and Francis were free to lounge in their own fashion. Like always Arthur waited for Francis to come to the door. Arthur was on his own, climbing the gate, when Allistor was the first to walk up to him.

"Still here, ay? Aren't ye going?" his older brother asked. He was leading a blue bike, which he had finally received after many complaints. Arthur wanted a bike as well, but he had been promised one in their next summer.

"Yes, so what of it?" Arthur replied.

"Who ye waiting for, ye bird?"

"Of course not. I am waiting for Francis."

Arthur was certain Allistor would retaliate with something mean, but to his surprise he did not. Instead, the older redhead quickly rolled his bike out and got on.

"See ya, Arthur." he said and hurried of as if something was chasing him.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned his head the other direction to see Francis arrive. He had for once not brought his bike, but he was as usual dressed in his blue cape. He seemed as royal as any French prince could be. Arthur smiled and jumped off the gate.

"I thought we'd go to, you know, our place." Francis said and smiled.

"What for?" Arthur asked, to his surprise the older boy sighed.

"It's quiet." Francis answered. Arthur did not really understand what he meant, but took his hand as they walked hand in hand to the end of the road and the old abandoned vineyard. They passed Madame Dubois, who sat at the front of her house on an old chair and waved. Her little Scottish terrier ran toward them barking.

The vineyard was as indeed abandoned. The old house closely resembled a shack with a few broken windows and ivy growing up one side of the walls. But they had no intentions of even trying to break in. Instead, they headed towards their favourite place, which was an olive garden. There Francis lay down underneath the old knotted trees, and Arthur followed suit.

They lay there for a while until Francis turned to him.

"Arthur, do you like me?" he asked, his voice was slightly trembling, as if nervous, but his eyes shone clear.

Arthur blinked. Where had this sparked from?

"Of course I do!" he said.

"Oh..." Francis said and sighed deeply. "I'm glad." he said.

Francis kept his eyes on his, and Arthur couldn't help but to feel slightly awkward. As close as they were he could even tell every detail of Francis eyes, which was much too close for his comfort. He sat up abruptly, he needed some space. He liked Francis, yes, but...

"I like you, as my best friend" he admitted. Francis smiled fondly, and seemed to think: _'Me too'._ "But," Arthur continued, "you are still a pompous frog."

Francis smile faltered for a second. Then he smiled back, with mischief written all over his face. "Same to you, _rosbif_." Francis said and before Arthur knew what had happened he was lying on his back, with Francis mercilessly tickling his sides. Arthur struggled with both breaking away from Francis and trying to breath. He tried to reflect the attack, but found that Francis was stronger.

"Fine, I give up, I surrender!"

Francis smirked and backed of. But the upturned smile turned into a frown as Arthur almost as quickly jumped him, and proceeded to tickle him instead.

"Honhonhon, mercy!" Francis shrieked as Arthur viscously poked everything from his sides to his stomach.

"Give up!" Arthur shouted back above the laughter. Francis met his gaze briefly, and then looked away as if to say "no". So Arthur threw himself at his friend, and landed quite heavily on Arthur's stomach. The air went out of Francis, who groaned. Arthur groaned as well. Francis wasn't exactly a fluffy pillow.

The two boys still managed to scramble away from their weird position. Both panted heavily from their small struggle. Arthur looked at Francis who looked back. Then they both broke out in a grin and laughter.

"Hahaha." Arthur couldn't help himself. Francis hair lay in a nest of curls and tousles. Arthur himself wasn't better of. His clothes had wrinkled and his face was slightly reddened.

"Honhonhon," Francis mimicked his behaviour. The two lay down with grins on their faces. Their breaths slowly evened, but the smiles didn't fade. Francis looked over at Arthur, who smiled back.

"Arthur, what is your dream?" Francis asked suddenly. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"Your dream, like, what do you dream of?"

"I dunno, pirates, adventures." To his annoyance Francis started to laugh again.

Arthur glared at him. After a few seconds Francis stopped.

"I am sorry, but I like it."

"What is your dream then?" Arthur asked. Francis once more smiled back. He seemed to be made out of smiles this day.

"I can tell you, but first, I have to tell you a story.

"Go on."

"Well, my grandmother once told me..."

-000-

" _My grandmother once told me that many years ago, when she was young, this vineyard was owned by a man. When he was fifteen he met a young girl who lived here in the village. They were deeply in love, but her father was a rich merchant and he didn't want to acknowledge their love for each other. He wanted his daughter to marry into a fine family, with money and respect._

 _The young man worked hard at every farm and vineyard that he could find work in. All his earnings he saved and stored away under his bed. After many years, he had finally earned enough to buy a small pit of land. They say he worked day and night to make something amazing from it. He even boarded a ship to sail and earn enough money to fund his dream project, so that one day he would prove himself to be as successful as her father saw her fit._

 _He built a house and returned to the father to once again ask for her hand. But he was a greedy man, and said that a house and a pit of land wasn't enough. So, the young man, now 20, threw himself into more work._

 _At that time good wine was worth its money, so he grew grapes. And he pressed the grapes and stored the juice in barrels he built himself. Finally, after a year he had a barrel of fine tasting wine to sell. It sold well, and with the money he was able to buy more land. This continued for another twenty years. His love for the woman kept him going, and she promised to wait for him._

 _In those twenty years they spent time apart. Her family had moved to Paris, so when he finally owned most of the land in this village he travelled to her new home, to once more ask for her hand._

 _But twenty years had passed, and in that time many things had happened. Her father had died from a heart-attack, and she had recently passed away. She faded away with the Spanish flu. Broken-hearted and lost he returned to the vineyard, now cold and empty._

 _For a year the vineyard stood empty and unused, but as the year had passed he received a letter. The letter was dated a year and a half from the day it arrived. It was written by her._

 _In this letter she told him that she had heard rumours of his success. She was so happy for him, and she couldn't wait now, with his success, to the day when they'd be together again. She wanted them both to make wine good enough for an emperor to drink. She couldn't wait until she could have her first taste. Because she knew no matter what, she'd love it._

 _This letter, though it saddened him, brought him a new passion. He felt as if she was there with him, watching him, telling him to go on. And he did. He reopened production, and after another year the production started again. His wines sold well, and he invested in the money on the village. He'd build houses for his employees, schools for their children and even a train station so that anyone could visit them, and have a taste of true happiness._

 _The houses, the square and the schools were all his bidding. When he finally fell asleep, at a ripe old age, the closest to a state funeral was held at the village church. He had given them everything and asked nothing but their honest opinions in return. He had believed that those who could laugh from hardship were the people to truly find happiness. It is said, he died with a smile on his lips._

 _But since then the first vineyard, his vineyard is slowly falling into ruin. It has not been torn down, no one wants it to be, but at the same time everyone is unsure how to revive it. Because in order to do so, you need love, and you need care. And most of all, you need that kind of dedication to smile as he made everyone smile._

-000-

"... one day. I wish to revive that dream." Francis muttered, finishing his story.

Arthur felt as if he had entered another world. The way Francis spoke was not in the way a storyteller would tell this, or someone who was there to impress with a good story. No, it was with a soul that burned with some almost touchable passion. It was as if a contagious wish to see this dream come true washed over him, and yet he could barely comprehend. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and yet his mouth hung slightly ajar.

"You must think of me like an idiot." Francis concluded.

Arthur quickly shook his head.

"Not at all." he objected and quickly turned to face his friend. He put his hands over Francis. "I'd love to see that too."

Francis too raised an eyebrow. "But Arthur," he said. "I don't think you understand. After all, this will take years..."

"Of course it will, we're only kids, remember. So what, we can do it. Together, like the raft, like swimming."

Francis stared at him, than he laughed.

"Let¨s make a promise." the French boy said after a while. "That when we are old enough, no matter where we go, we'll come back 'ere. I don't know if our intentions will be the same, but we¨'ll return. And then, we will rebuild it together. Good for you?"

Arthur smiled, his face seemingly glowed.

"So it shall be." he agreed and they shook hands.

One day they would both return. And together, they would create the best wine ever created between England and France.

 **A/N:**

This closes the chapters of their childhood, they started different but found a lot of things in common. Next chapter Arthur will have aged and this story will jump a few years. I hope to see you there.

Translations: bird- Scottish for girlfriend (apparently)

Trivia:

 **The vineyard** : Believe it or not, this is actually based on a real story.

2007 me and my parents travelled to Italy for a wine tasting journey. My father was very much into Italian wines, so he wanted to travel to the Mecca of wines to him, the Verona region. I was of age of drinking in Europe, so I came with them, and got my first taste of red and white wine that year.

One of the many vineyards we visited was a pretty small vineyard, owned by a woman. She told us that she was an Italian immigrant. She and her belated husband originated from the US, but they both had Italian blood ties. He was a heart surgeon, in short, they had a pretty good life in America. But, he had a dream. So, they both travelled away from home and settled in Italy, they bought a smaller vineyard and started to produce quality wine. They wanted their wine to be the best, a bad year they wouldn't sell anything, because they wanted quality, not quantity.

He died some years later. But, instead of closing the vineyard she decided to single handedly (I guess assisted by her children) to continue the production and their dream.

This story popped into my head while working out the storyline for this story. She is one of the people I remember the most from that journey.


	6. Antonio part I

Bonjour everyone, and I am terribly sorry for being late, but as it is, my preparations caught up long ago with real life, so now I am stuck trying to catch up again. I also want to thank Yuu Kirkland who helped me realise that from now on Francis may get to taste wine, so yeah... I know I keep my rating pretty low regarding the subject matter, but tasting and writing are still two separate things.

Also, a fair warning, this chapter and some following chapters will introduce Spain x France.

Ages:

Francis – 17

Arthur – 13

Antonio – 18

 **Chapter 6**

 **The Boyfriend**

Years passed since Arthur and Francis had first set eyed upon each other, and after all this time it felt like forever since either two had confessed that the other seemingly meant a little more to the other than a mere neighbouring kid. Since Arthur had first set his feet on French soil they had come a long way, from playing pooh sticks every other day to now chill by the café, help Madame Dubois with her apples or just lounge by the olives in the old vineyard. They would still speak occasionally of their ambitions to one day work together to achieve something out of it, but life lead room to other dreams.

And those dreams sometimes tend to bring even the best of friends apart.

In the autumn of 2005 Francis had been accepted into the Paris College of Art and late August Arthur and the now young French man found themselves saying their goodbyes for the first time in years. It was the first time Arthur truly hated the age difference between them. He was all but a few years younger than Francis, but that also meant it would take a few years before he would be allowed to chase after him, and leave their little village as well. Francis had found photography to be a passion that he wanted to pursue and had applied as soon as applications were accepted. To everyone's amazement, he got in.

This did not mean that no words were exchanged between them. Francis and he would often speak over the phone. However, Arthur soon found out that Francis could be annoyingly old-fashioned at times. Instead of e-mails he preferred to send letters. Arthur had to brush up his handwriting since the French man had been so persistent. They now had a weekly correspondence of letters, and Arthur had to improvise greatly to make sure that the twins did not get their hands on then.

And as December got nearer Francis sent one final letter before winter break came.

 _Dear Arthur_

 _Mon ami, how are you! I hope you've remembered to dress warmly. We both know how hot-headed you can be at times, but I find that to be a little excuse for you to catch an unnecessary cold. After all, we both remember the incident last time I tried to help you when you got sick – I am not trying that again._

 _I am much delighted to inform you that I will be coming home for Christmas. I wasn't sure at first, our school has many international students and I've met a number of amazing people here. Many are going to stay for Christmas, and I figured it might get lonely if they had no one but themselves to celebrate with. Alas, when I told this to maman she was as close to returning to Paris as I've ever heard her. And I cannot allow that. So, we shall celebrate Christmas at home once more._

 _I hope to see you there. I will arrive at the station at 11am on December 19th. I hope to see you then._

 _Kisses_

 _Francis_

Arthur had the crumbled letter in his pocket as he joined Francis' mother at the station. He had changed a quite a bit since his first days. He was taller, lean, but some things did not change. His hair was just as messy as it had always been and his eyes were the same shade of green. He breathed softly, as small puffs of cold air witnessed of the sudden chill that seemed to have reached down to their area. Arthur just hoped that the train wouldn't have run into any problems on the way.

"It's been months, I hope 'e gets here soon." Madame Bonnefoy said with a gentle smile. She wore a long beige coat and white gloves, which she used to brush a few flakes of snow from her shoulders.

"I just hope he hasn't gotten taller, he'll grow through your roof." Arthur murmured. Before leaving, Francis seemingly towered above him. Arthur wasn't a short teen for his age, but Francis seemed to have inherited some strange gene to make him grow.

Madame Bonnefoy laughed.

"Oh, mon petit Arthur. It's a good thing I have you. I'd probably have gone sick with worry if I had not."

"What? What do you mean? Doesn't he call you?" Arthur asked, perplexed that Francis wouldn't talk with his own mother.

She lowered her hand to clutch her purse.

"Of course 'e does." she said and gave him yet another smile. "But, sometimes you have told me things 'e 'as never spoken off."

Arthur's eyes widened slightly.

"Really, like what?"

"Like that young man that calls himself Prussian or the Italian boy he flirted with who punched his face. I don't like it much, but he seems quite content, though his choice of friends may need to improve."

Arthur stared at her briefly, then he couldn't help but to laugh as well.

"That bruise has to have healed now." he said once air had returned to his lungs.

Finally, the Parisian train arrived. Neither Arthur nor Madame Bonnefoy knew Francis seat or carriage number, so they remained where they stood. Doors opened and a small number of people stepped off, dragging heavy bags or large packages with them. As the doors closed Arthur got slightly worried, because he could not see Francis anywhere and it wouldn't have surprised him one bit if the French man would have forgotten the time or been late for his ride. Then he heard a familiar voice somewhere to his right.

"Antonio, calm down. I am not made of glass." which was followed by an even more familiar: "Honhonhon..."

Arthur turned and was just about to say something clever, much like: "I should have figured an old frog like you would have skipped over me." when he noticed, to his surprise, that Francis was not alone. A lean young man, around Francis age, stood by his side with a tattered rucksack over one shoulder. He had brown curly hair and olive skin. The newcomer looked up to meet Arthur's eyes. Arthur found this new man to have unusually green eyes.

"Francis, that boy is staring. Por qué?"

Francis turned and spotted Arthur almost immediately. His face seemingly lit up.

"Arthur!"

Arthur watched as Francis ran up to him and his mother. He hugged his mother first with a few kisses on the cheek and did the same to Arthur. Arthur would never be able to understand, but didn't argue. He still kept his eyes on the newcomer, who walked almost lazily toward them.

"Francis, qui est ton ami?" she asked.

Francis blushed slightly, which was rare. Arthur rarely ever saw his friend blush, and wondered what on Earth was going on.

"Maman, Arthur. This is Antonio. He is..."

A hand suddenly appeared before them, followed by a slightly huffed breaths.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Mrs Bonnefoy. I am Francis boyfriend."

Madame Bonnefoy smiled, Arthur blinked...

Wait, what?

-000-

The ride back to the house seemed to go on forever. Arthur was wedged between Francis and this, Antonio, as the two spoke happily about the events of the last few months. Arthur didn't say a word. Only now did it start to dawn upon him how much of Francis life that he had missed.

"I am serious, I think she must have a thing for you, Frances. After all, she keeps sneaking by when you have your back turned."

"Mon amour, you have to be a little more specific. There are many girls in the dorms."

"You know, that blond one with the pigtails."

"Claudia?"

"Yes, that one."

"I didn't know. Then again, the other week I went to get our post, and I think I got more than a dozen cards there." Antonio laughed heartily.

Francis smiled at Arthur.

"I seem to attract a lot of girls." he explained. Arthur shrugged.

"Like I didn't know that already." he murmured.

Francis stared at him for a minute, eyes closely knitted together. "Arthur, is something wrong?"

"No, why?"

"You've been silent all this time."

Arthur shrugged once more. He would not say it out loud, but he simply didn't feel like engaging in the conversation.

"Just tired." he explained and faked a yawn.

"We're almost home." Madame Bonnefoy said from the front seat.

She wasn't wrong. They were only on the driveway for another ten minutes before the car stopped by the garage. Arthur took a sigh of relief as Antonio bounced out. Francis quickly followed. The two older teens went to retrieve their bags from the trunk. Arthur went after him, he didn't have anything to carry and figured he ought to head home seeing Francis was busy and did not pay him much attention at all. Arthur had never encountered something like this before. He was used to be Francis closest friend, and it was weird to share the attention.

"Arthur, would you like to join us for dinner?" Madame Bonnefoy asked. Arthur shook his head, a little too quickly.

"I don't want to intrude." he said and faked a smile.

"Mon ami, please!" Francis said and sent one of his usual radiant smiles. "I haven't seen you in months, we have so much to catch up on."

Arthur took a small step back. He hoped he somehow could slip away, unnoticed most preferably. "I don't know, mum..."

"S'il te plais!" Francis begged. Arthur sighed. He hated when Francis gave him the puppy eyes. Arthur tried to figure out a good excuse. Several came to mind: 'I am sorry Francis, mother wants me to cook dinner for the twins. Mother got stuck in the snow on her way home, so I have to babysit the twins.' Sadly, he knew Francis wouldn't buy any of these. So he simply said:

"Fine, I guess so."

Francis smiled and gave him a hug before he bounced after Antonio, who was waiting by the door. Arthur walked after them, doing his best to somewhat behave though parts of him just screamed to knock some sense into Francis. He was about to, he wanted to just grab onto that collar and downright tell him that Antonio couldn't be trusted. He wasn't sure what made him feel like it. Maybe it was the sneer that Antonio gave him when Francis took his hand, or the moment later when he practically ordered the unknowing Madame Bonnefoy around. The final one really made Arthur pissed. He liked Francis mother, she was quite a popular lady in the village. And Arthur knew that she liked his company as well.

"Do you need help?" Arthur asked and she smiled and nodded. He was given a knife and asked to chop some garnish while Madame Bonnefoy heated a Pot au Feu that she had cooked the day before. It didn't take long before the aromatic stew started bubbling. She hummed softly and threw a few jokes at Arthur for him touching her food. He couldn't resist a small taste or two.

"Maman, où est papa?" Francis appeared suddenly by the door to the kitchen.

"Papa? Oh, I am sorry Francis. Papa said he wouldn't make it for Christmas. He had some more business he has to finish before he can fly home, but he hopes to make it to Easter. He sent you a gift though, it is by the tree."

Francis turned and seemed to have a look. "So it seems." he concluded and brushed a stray lock from his face. Now that they were out of their winter clothing Arthur saw that Francis had let his hair grown even further, into long and wavy curls.

"Arthur, do you mind helping me to set the table?" Madame Bonnefoy asked. "Dinner is almost ready."

Arthur nodded happily, until he realised walking outside the kitchen meant walking close to Antonio again.

It didn't help that as soon as he exited the kitchen the first sight that met him was Francis and Antonio by the couch, lips locked together in what was obvious a sensual kiss. And no one so much as batted an eyelash that he had walked into their moment. In fact, he was pretty sure they weren't even aware that he was around them.

-000-

Dinner became even worse for Arthur, who didn't dare look into either of their eyes. As soon as he did, his face would turn red and he'd look away. Instead he took a particular interest to a clock on the wall and kept wondering why time moved so slow?

If Francis or anyone else had noticed they did not mention it. Madame Bonnefoy took this as an opportunity to get to know Antonio, since her son and the Spaniard were obviously dating. Antonio didn't seem to mind the interrogation at all, and answered all of her questions with an impossibly radiant smile.

"I was born in a small place called Telle in Western Spain, but my parents moved to Barcelona when I was five. Then we lived briefly on Sicily when I turned ten, but we returned back to Barcelona a few years back. Have you ever been to Barcelona, it is quite beautiful señora, it has the Cathedral of Santa Cruz. It is said it took them 150 years to build it, could you even imagine? Anyway, I only came to Paris a few months ago. Spain has good schools, but a friend of mine said he had chosen this French Art school and I thought it would be fun to try."

"So, what is your major then?"

"It's sculpture. Human sculpture to be exact. I love anatomy, so I find it almost romantic to immortalize the human body."

"Yes, he is quite good at it." Francis said with a coy smile. But Madame Bonnefoy didn't seem to take it too lightly.

"Francis." she said in an unusual stern voice. "I forbid you to be a model until you are at least 18."

Francis smile faltered immediately. "Yes, maman." he said obediently.

"Arthur, what about you, any plans?" she turned to Arthur and her usual kind smile was back. Arthur saw that Antonio was giggling at Francis slightly shocked expression.

"Well, I don't know. I like books, but I don't know what that will do."

"Well, isn't there is a literature facility at the University?" Antonio said, still giggling at Francis expression.

Arthur blinked. Maybe he had misjudged him. It sounded as quite an interesting offer.

"But I don't see why you'd go for books. Personally, I find them rather boring." the Spaniard continued and took another spoonful of stew.

Or maybe not.

"It's not boring, mon ami, you're just impatient. But, it's not a bad idea. Maybe you should apply for that?" Francis suggested to Arthur. Francis seemed to have recovered slightly from Madame Bonnefoy's scolds and swatted Antonio's hand from his plate, who absent-mindedly tried to steal some extra meat from his bowl.

Arthur bent back to his own bowl and quickly stuffed a very hot carrot into his mouth. The sight of the two, it made his feel nauseous. His mind was drivel back to his burnt tongue and gasping he dove for his water and gulped it down.

"I think that sounds like a lovely idea, but you're still a few years away, so I wouldn't worry just yet, right Arthur?" Madame Bonnefoy said and Arthur shook his head. He felt entirely grateful to Francis mother who then proceeded to direct everyone's attention to Antonio once more.

"So, what did you and Francis have in mind. I would guess you are quite curious about our village."

"Of course." Antonio answered, unusually fast as he almost disrupted Francis' mother. "You'll show me around, won't you amigo?" he turned to Francis, who smiled.

"Sure."

"Can I come with you?"

Arthur wasn't sure why he asked, but he didn't feel like leaving the two of them alone. Why would he? He was Francis' friend, was he not? This had to be just a thing, right?

Francis seemed to ponder for a while and then smiled.

"Of course you can come, right Antonio? The more the merrier as they say."

Arthur noted to his delight that Antonio didn't seem as cheerful and enthusiastic as before.

"Shall we say ten tomorrow?" Francis suggested.

"Very well."

Antonio sent a silent glare Arthur's way, but Arthur shrugged it off. He felt quite pleased with himself. He hadn't been sure at first, but now he was well bent on it. He would make absolutely sure that by the end of this visit, he would do his best to separate the two. For his, Art... Francis' best.

Dinner proceeded then with desserts, which was a lovely apple tart Francis' mother had made. It reminded Arthur about the apples Francis would bake for him before he moved away.

It was late when Arthur finally had to leave. His mother called asking where he was. Arthur had to excuse himself and leave shortly and once more found himself in a very familiar spot, by Francis' front door, saying his goodbyes.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Francis asked.

"Yes. At ten, and don't be late, frog." Francis laughed at the familiar response and then kissed him on the cheek. They were close, they had been close for so many years and this felt quite natural. Arthur kissed back but his lips lingered half a second longer on the second kiss.

"Good night, Arthur."

 **Translations:**

Maman, où est papa? : Mother, where is father?

No trivia this time, but please follow my tumblr sunshineauthornotes for occasional updates regarding my stories.


	7. Antonio part II

_This chapter is dedicated to the many, many, pirate themed pictures of the AMV Listen to your heart by Avarice Rose (because this is among the very few places you will see pirate Antonio)._

 _Also, for review responses (that are anonymous), go to the end of the chapter. This weeks trivia will instead be found on my tumblr: sunshineauthornotes_

 _Ps: Don't hate Antonio after this, the poor guy has his reasons._

 **Chapter 7**

 **Misleaded**

"Arthur? Where are you off to?"

"Bed" was all he said, passed his mother by the foot of the stairs, walked to his room and slammed the door behind him. It wasn't very late and he had just gotten back from Francis and the dinner, but he couldn't stand it anymore.

During the short walk home all he could think of was _Antonio_ , Antonio... that sodding git. He was furious, and worse, he had absolutely nothing to vent his furiousness toward. So, he did the only thing you can do in a small room with thin walls and nothing to punch.

He lay down and cried. Thank God Allistor was nowhere to be seen.

His cheeks were slightly damp as he stared at the walls of the familiar room. On shelves that once held toys and fairytales were now thicker books and a stereo. The only familiar figure left was the little mint green bunny that had stuck with him all until now. It was his old companion since childhood. Allistor had not yet been able to somehow damage it, and as they got older, the horrid attempts of bunny-mutilations ceased. Though, he would often question how old Arthur was to keep something that childish.

He yawned as rage gave in to exhaustion. "What would you have done?" he asked the little bunny and closed his eyes. He could almost imagine what the small plush would say.

But he was too tired to think about it.

Instead he dreamt that night. He dreamt that Francis was locked away in a tower and guarding it was a dangerous pirate. He, Arthur, was no more than a stranded captain on this island out in the middle of the vast sea. He didn't know why he had to save the prisoner. He only knew that he would regret it if he did not. The journey had taken weeks, and the island was made from grey rocks piled ominously to grow into a crooked tower of more round stones, most likely forged together with magic. Behind him he could hear the lonely cries of black gulls, with red eyes that seemed to wait for someone to keel over for them to devour. And they might have their chance. As it was, a man stood in his way, dressed in a red long coat, a pistol stuck in a holster and a large hat with a ridiculously large ostrich feather on top. This captain's name he knew was Antonio.

Arthur raised his cutlass for attack, which Antonio parried easily. They engaged in a fiery dance of blows, neither seemed to get the upper hand as they were well matched in strength.

Until.

Antonio kicked his boot into the stone, and somehow dust moved and shot into Arthur's eyes. It hurt and he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to cover, but Antonio took this as his opportunity to kick him off balance. Arthur groaned as his head hit the stone, he was sure he was bleeding.

"Don't think you can win over me!" the Spaniard said with a gleeful smirk. One boot pressed down upon Arthur's chest to keep him from getting up. He fought against the tall brunette, but the more he struggled the harder Antonio would press down on him. It was as if he was meant to lose.

But he had to win. He had to save Francis no matter what. But Antonio stood over him like some wild beast in red flowing coat and large hat, wild untamed like hungry snakes. It was terrifying. From the tower he could hear Francis: "Arthur, Arthur! Save me!"

A light broke through the dark clouds and landed on his cutlass. It gleamed and it gave Arthur the idea he needed. He angled his sword and to his immediate luck, the light hit Antonio in the eyes. The Spaniard backed away momentarily, as his view was clouded by dark spots, but it was the moment of weakness that Arthur needed to push Antonio away. The Spanish pirate disappeared in a wisp of black smoke.

Arthur drew in a deep sigh of relief. He couldn't believe his luck as the lone ray of sunlight quickly disappeared. For a moment he felt disoriented, why was he fighting in the first place?

"Arthur."

He quickly got back to his feet and nearly stumbled to the small thick metal door that now separated him from Francis. Quickly he unlatched it and threw it open. He was greeted by a flash of blue. Francis was dressed in a silk blue cape, with gold embroideries of lilies. Arthur hugged him close, one hand rested upon the golden locks and one around his waist.

"Thank you, mon cherie." Francis said softly while they stared at each others eyes. Arthur gasped, he felt mesmerised by what he saw. Francis eyes seemed to shine brightly, like sapphires.

"You're welcome." he said and his voice faded at the last syllable because Francis was so close. He closed his eyes and felt the faint touch of Francis lips on his. They hadn't changed, they were just as he remembered them.

-000-

Arthur woke up with a start. At first he wasn't sure what woke him, until he heard his mother's familiar voice,

"Arthur, Arthur, get up. Mrs Bonnefoy asked me to wake you, she said it was important."

He groaned, and covered his head with his blanket. The air felt cold and he just wanted to sleep and forget his own predicament. What on Earth could Francis need him for? It had to be quite early.

He could hear his mother walk up the stairs and open his door. He was close to fall asleep, determined to ignore her, until she drew the blanket from his face.

"Mrs Bonnefoy said Francis has hurt himself. They needs a favour."

Arthur stiffened and opened his eyes wide.

"What did you say?"

"Francis fell and hurt himself" his mother continued. Arthur leapt out of bed, both cold and fatigue completely forgotten.

He rushed to his wardrobe to get a t-shirt, sweater and his pants then he rushed down the stairs. He only tripped once, but that cannot be blamed on his part. Allistor stuck his foot out as he hurried pass him in the kitchen.

"Ye'r earlie, whit dragged ye out o' bed? A fire?"

"Shut up!"

Arthur had no time to argue with Allistor, not that there was anything to argue with. His brother was in no mood for anything that did involve him. Instead he hurried to the door and put on his shoes as quickly as he could tie them, and he was off.

The sky was grey and it seemed to fit his mood. He contemplated climbing the wall instead of running around the house, but figured he'd run instead. There was no need for two people to injure themselves. He was certain that this sudden injury had to do with the newcomer Spaniard.

It would turn out that he wasn't wrong.

He reached the house as Francis mother helped Francis to the car. The French teenager grimaced every time he put his right foot to the ground. It was obvious he was in some kind of pain. Antonio walked from behind them, and he looked quite concerned. It surprised Arthur, but it made him angry as well.

Ig Antonio hurt Francis, Arthur would make sure he would feel pain as well.

"Madame Bonnefoy!" Arthur said and hurried up to them. Francis smiled at him, despite the pain and Arthur felt his face heat up.

"Arthur, good, you came. I was worried you might be out, but your mother said you were in bed."

"What happened?"

"It was just an accident." Francis said, but his mother disrupted him.

"After dinner last night Francis and Antonio got a little energetic and to keep things short. They were fooling around in the sofa, Francis fell out, 'it his foot in the table. 'e ensured me it was nothing and that he didn't hurt himself, but this morning I found that 'is foot has swollen to twice its size."

Arthur's eyes widened and he stared in disbelief from Francis, to his mother and to Antonio.

"It is nothing." Francis tried again.

"Nothing?" Madame Bonnefoy picked a stray lock from her face. She looked unusually dishevelled as her hair was put into a quick bun and she wore no make up on her usually orderly face. Arthur had never seen her this worried, not even during the times they spent at the raft as children or the time they fell asleep at the old vineyard and didn't turn up until the next morning.

"You, my dear child, are just like your father. You never stay where I think you are and when I turn my back you've just done something. Oh, mon dieu. What am I supposed to do with you?" she said with a sigh and kissed Francis on the cheek. Francis smiled and shook his head. She then hurried into the driver's seat, but Francis did not close the door. He looked straight at Arthur with a pleading look.

"Arthur, I know this is much to ask of you, but could you please look after Antonio for me."

"What?"

"Antonio is new and I don't want 'im to feel lonely here. Mother said we need to see Docteur Segal. 'e is our old family doctor and he lives closer to us than the 'ospital. You could... you could show 'im the village and all of our favourite spots. 'e is a sculptor, so maybe 'e can find some inspiration 'ere. Please Arthur, I would 'ave taken 'im myself, but I don't want to bore 'im waiting at a clinic."

Arthur sighed. "Fine" he said.

"Thank you!" Francis leaned forward and planted a kiss on Arthur's cheek. He then closed the door and soon Arthur saw the car leave. He stood there for a moment just to watch the small dot of the car vanish around the bend.

"Lo siento, but could we please move. It's cold." Arthur heard Antonio say. The Brit sighed deeply. He had almost forgotten the Spaniard. For a brief moment he had forgotten he had promised to look after him for the day.

"What is there anyway... what is there anyway to do in this place?" Antonio asked and stretched. Arthur felt his insides boil from disgust. He truly wanted to hit this man, though as Antonio was both taller and more muscular than him, he was sure he would lose.

"There is a lot to see." Arthur said and lead the way.

Arthur took him all over the village. He showed him the school, the lake, the old church. But it became apparent each time that Antonio looked as bored as one person could be. He had absolutely no interest in the school. He refused to go near the lake saying he didn't want to fall in and freeze to death. When they passed the church he simply shrugged and rudely called it: "A pile of rocks." He then proceeded to talk about the amazing cathedrals and buildings he had witnessed throughout the Mediterranean Europe, from the towering mosques in Istanbul to the simple yet elegant yet small churches he saw on Malta.

The more Antonio talked the more Arthur was convinced that the Spaniard was trying to mock him. Nothing seemed to be good, not even OK for this apparent well-versed Spaniard. After another few tours Arthur felt a deep desire to simply throw him into the lake. He tried to keep things neutral, but Antonio made that really hard for him.

So instead he sped up, and walked faster to each new direction. Antonio did not take well upon this, and soon had to jog to keep up.

"¡Espera! Wait!" Antonio shouted after him. By this point they had returned to the centre of the village, close to a small fountain. Arthur stopped, quite pleased for knocking some of that ostentation out of him. The Spaniard almost fell onto the edge of the fountain to sit down and rest at the polished stone. Arthur took that moment to look at his fingernails. He noticed he had a small smudge on his thumb.

"Arthur!

Arthur looked up to see none other than Julie and Delphine walking arm in arm toward them. Both stopped as Antonio looked up from where he sat and his fatigue was immediately gone. Instead he regained his posture, leaned back a little and gave a confident smile. Arthur gaped slightly at his sudden change and he could not, for the life of him, understand what the guy was thinking. Delphine's face reddened almost immediately and she seemed to hide slightly behind Julie, who was less affected.

"Who is your friend?" Julie asked.

"Oh... this is An..."

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo, señorina." Antonio said quickly and made a move as to take Julie's hand to kiss it. Arthur didn't know whether to gag or try to behave in front of his friends, but Julie was thankfully not someone you impressed easily. She withdrew her hand quickly. Antonio stopped and gave her an apologetic smile.

"I am sorry, señorita, but I cannot stop myself in the presence of such beauty." he said. By now Delphine had hid her face in Julie's back.

"You're a funny one." Julie said and smiled back. "And excuse my manners, my mother warned of the Spanish long ago. My name is Julie, and this is Delphine."

"Charming."

Julie turned to Arthur and gave him a look that clearly asked: "Who is this?"

"This is Francis boyfriend." Arthur said and tried his best to drag the amorous Spaniard away from them.

"Oh, so you are the handsome fellow Francis told us about? I guess I have to give him credit, he has good taste." Julie said and Arthur couldn't help but to chuckle. Ever since he was young he had liked Julie. She was very caring, and yet not easily fooled. Which seemed apparent since she visibly kept Antonio a few steps away from her.

"Francis has spoken about me?" Antonio seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes. He speaks about you a lot over the phone, won't shut up about you."

"Wow, I didn't know."

Delphine looked up from behind her friend. "Does... does Francis ever mention us?" she asked.

Antonio was silent for a moment, then he said: "No, I am afraid not. But, we'reall kind of busy at the school, and well... I barely know half about everyone. We're mainly international students from all over the world, so I think we never had the time to really discuss this beautiful French countryside."

"I see, so where in Spain are you from?" Julie asked.

"Barcelona, but I've lived a bit of everywhere."

Arthur sighed. He just couldn't understand this guy, and he hated how he seemed to become best friends with his own friends so easily. He took out his phone, quite obvious to the fact that he was ignored for the moment and noticed that he had received a text.

We are back, where are you?

Francis

"Oy, loverboy!" Arthur said sharply from where he stood. "Are you going to flirt all day, or should we keep going?"

Antonio looked back at him with his brows knitted into a tight frown.

"Francis is home. I think we should head back." Arthur continued. Antonio turned back to the two girls and bowed. Then he took out a piece of paper and a small pen, and wrote down something.

"My number." he explained and Arthur stilled abruptly. What did he just do? That disgusting prick.

Antonio gave one final smile and clearly raised his hand to imitate a phone by his ear. Arthur stared at him, as did Julie but not as dramatically. She took the piece of paper quietly as Antonio bowed and then followed Arthur back toward the direction they would walk to head back.

Arthur was silent and most of the walk back was done in silence. He didn't know what to call Antonio anymore, truth to be told, what he had witnessed disgusted him. He was well aware that flirtatious people could be annoying, one happened to be his best friend after all. But he had never believed he would ever meet someone who could flirt even more, and feel so fake.

Antonio hummed happily, but it didn't take too long for him to notice Arthur's strained silence. Still, he kept quiet until it was time for them to part, something Arthur was more than happy to do. He needed a shower, badly, after this. He saw Antonio to the front of Francis' house and then quickly made his escape.

"Oi, Eyebrows!" he suddenly heard from behind. Antonio made no move to walk after him, but he had a wide knowing grin on his face. "Try not to be so unsexy next time."

If looks could kill, Antonio would have died several times over that day.

 _TBC_

 **Anonymous Review replies:**

Francis: Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for your kind words. I am so pleased you found my changes good, because it has been slightly scary to change things. The problems with Hetalia are that you have to make certain changes if you put the characters as human, especially in a story like this where characters grow and mature. So I was so happy for your review and know that it gave me the energy to finish half a chapter, because I was so happy. You made me so happy to write again.

Guest: I am so sorry. I was one minute late on updating this story. I hope next time I will be ahead of you before you'll feel the need to chase me again.


	8. Antonio part III

There was a time when I considered putting an M-rating on this story. This chapter will border as close as possible towards that rating, but I think this is still quite mild. But if you are sensitive to the subject matter, be wary.

 **Chapter 8**

 **Christmas**

Two days passed silently as a thin coat of snow spread across the silent countryside. In those two days Arthur had seen very little of Francis, who was once again with them. Since his fall Francis kept mostly at home. He had returned with a tightly wrapped bandage around his foot, and now skipped slowly on crutches. As the air grew colder it would seem that the remainder of Francis visit would be held indoors. It probably wouldn't have been such a bad thing for Arthur, hadn't it been for the fact that Antonio had slammed the door in his face when he tried to visit the day after.

Arthur could not for the life of him understand why the Spaniard seemed to hate him. It is true he wasn't very fond of Antonio,but he had tried to get along, for Francis' sake. He just couldn't help it that Francis somehow had chosen a complete sadistic, nasty and out of bounds flirtatious boyfriend that somehow made Arthur's blood boil. Neither did it help that Antonio seemed to figure how important Francis was for Arthur as well. But no matter what, the Spaniard seemed determined to keep Francis for himself. In short. If possessiveness had a face Arthur was sure it had to be Antonio's.

So now he had to resort to a different method. In one way, it was both a curse and a blessing to live next door to Francis. That way he could see him, but at the same time he couldn't do anything to stop it the constant flirting, passionate kisses or tender looks. It was sickening. He wanted it all gone.

Francis and Antonio stood outdoors gazing with admiration at the snow. Antonio was talking rapidly, but Arthur had no clue what he said. All he noted was that it made Francis smile even wider; a truly beautiful smile. The two leaned closer to each other, Antonio's lips moved close to Francis' ear and he seemed to whisper something. Francis seemed to have his full attention. Arthur saw that his eyes seemed to gaze towards the British boy's house and he did not like it. What lies did Antonio speak?

But worse, he couldn't do anything about it. He hadn't spoken to Francis since he got his leg treated.

The air was cold and he shivered. Soon the sun would set. There was really no use in staring at them for yet another day. He gave a deep sigh as he decided to get back into the house. He stomped off some of the snow and walked in.

He did not expect to be jumped by the twins. One minute he reached to take of his scarf, the next second he was down on the floor.

"Hey, bugger off!" Allistor said angrily as he timely walked out from the kitchen. The twins were a menace. Arthur was certain he was the only person in this house to be harassed, not just by Allistor's constant remarks, but the twins as well. They tended to be complete angels whenever their mother returned, but currently she was out to help a friend.

Arthur heard giggles run up the stairs and he sighed. He glared at Allistor, who repaid the favour by ignoring him. Allistor walked back to the kitchen, where Christmas preparations had started. Arthur was normally not welcome to help since he had managed the seemingly impossible task of burning water for the Easter feast. He couldn't understand why Allistor wouldn't teach him how to cook, if he was so bad at it.

"By the way, who are ye spyin' on?" Allistor asked from inside the room. "Was it Francis?"

Arthur ignored him. He did not feel like talking much. But he didn't get far. Without a warning Allistor hurried after him. It caught Arthur off guard. His brother would usually just mock him.

"I've seen the way ye look a' him." Allistor continued and Arthur stopped halfway up the stairs. "I am nae blind, Arthur. Do you like him? Arthur, ur ye gay?"

Arthur turned abruptly.

"I... I would never. How could you ask that?"

"Jus' answer fer once ye twat."

"Fine... No, I don't like guys, okay!" He did not like the dangerous tone his brother carried, nor be called _twat_. "And... and how could you ask if I'd like someone as Francis like... like that. That's disgusting! He. He is French."

And he turned back and stomped as quickly as he could back toward his room. At the top of the stairs he almost stumbled over the twins, who seemed to have listened quite intently to the conversation.

"Arthur, what's gay?" Brendan asked as he hurried past them. The twins moved quickly to follow him. Most likely they were going to keep pestering him about this just to annoy him. Okay, he knew they probably had no clue what 'gay' was, but he did not feel like he needed to explain.

He didn't want to be the big brother to them, that was Allistor's job. He was the oldest.

He didn't want this family, where everyone would question him and his actions.

He wanted out. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up when things were over.

He wasn't ready to talk.

"Get lost!" he snarled. The twins stopped and stared at him. Behind them stood Allistor, with a wooden spoon in hand. Arthur ran to his room, but he could hear the twins through the door. They were crying.

Eventually Allistor seemed to bring the twins downstairs, most likely to comfort them. Arthur took quick strides to his desk. He leaned towards the window, which had a good view of Francis' living room. He noted that both Francis and Antonio had returned indoors. They were once again on the couch, this time Francis sat with Antonio hovering above him. Francis, to Arthur's surprise wore no shirt and he could see, though he didn't get any details from it, that Antonio was touching the French teen passionately.

At first he felt compelled to go over there and beat up the Spaniard, though he was certain he would lose. The picture was so wrong, but it was obvious that they had done this before. There seemed to be no hesitation nor lack of inspiration. Arthur wanted to turn away from it, but he had never seen anything like it before. He had long known that girls didn't interest him, but this was all new to him.

Francis had his back to the sofa, which Arthur had a pretty decent view of from where he sat. Antonio straddled him and seemed to almost want to eat Francis alive. Arthur's cheeks reddened as he noted that Francis wore no shirt, and it shouldn't have affected him. After all, they had bathed and played for years without shirts on. But there was just something about this scenery that made it all much more spectacular.

Briefly, the two lovebirds stopped just to gaze at each other, and it was done with such fondness it made Arthur's heart ache. He had never seen such an expression on Francis face. Francis was a notorious flirt, that can never be denied, but he never showed it with such an expression.

For a moment Arthur wondered what it would feel like if Francis ever looked at him, Arthur, with those eyes. He wanted to know. Something within him seemed to break open with desire. He wanted to know. He felt as if he somehow betrayed everything he stood for. But at that moment he wanted to somehow switch body with Antonio.

As his thought conflicted Antonio reached close to whisper something into Francis' ear, and the French teen listened intently. Then he smiled, whispered something back. Arthur was shocked, but he could swear that for a short second Francis eyes diverted towards him, and he jumped from the window in shock. But, that had to be a trick or illusion of his own mind, right?

He leaned back closer to the window once more. By now the scene seemed to have slowed down, and both teenagers on the sofa seemed content to sit close to one and another to whisper. Arthur's gut raged, as whatever Antonio said seemed to cause Francis to blush. Francis turned to properly look at Antonio and then bent forward to kiss him once more.

As Arthur stood gazing at him he thought about that one time, many years ago, when he had accidentally kissed Francis. He had no clue back then that the French would kiss on the cheek on a simple friendly greeting, so he had done the only thing he knew. He had leaned forward and given Francis a small kiss on the mouth.

The memory of that day was fuzzy, as many memories are of your younger days. He had forgotten most of the silly games they played and the things that seemed so new back then were just ordinary. It was therefore a surprise that the kiss had made some kind of imprint on his very young mind. Maybe it had sparked from the embarrassment when Julie two years later had acted out that very kiss with her then boyfriend? Maybe it was the first realisation that friends shared a different type of kiss? Or maybe...

He wondered what it would be like to share a kiss like the one Antonio and Francis shared. His fingers touched his lips and he tried to imagine. How someone would love you, and share such an intimate act. In old fairy tales he remembered reading about those kisses that meant, so what were they like? Were they any different?

At Francis the light was suddenly turned off. Arthur blinked, he hadn't noticed how dark it was becoming. With a deep sigh he turned and went to bed. But it would take him hours before he would fall asleep.

He couldn't help but wonder.

Why? Why was it the more he thought about it, the more the stranger he started to see before him changed from a shadow to a man. And why? Why did that man possess blond curls, and Francis' blue eyes?

Why Francis?

-000-

The next morning Arthur woke late. Like always his room was cold and since he couldn't hear anyone from downstairs he guessed his family had left him on his own, again. He got up, dressed quickly to avoid as much of the cold air as possible and wrapped himself in a blanket. Before he was about to walk downstairs he bent toward his window to check on Francis.

He had just enough time to see Francis and Antonio leave. Francis was struggling on crutches, but it seemed they were on their way to the Old Vineyard. A sting of jealousy hit Arthur and he contemplated to follow them. But around the same time he saw Allistor return, carrying a large bag of groceries, with the twins closely behind.

A snowball hit his window and he opened it to glare at the lot, all red headed and slightly redder from the cold.

"Merry Christmas!" Brian piped from below.

"What thay said. Come doon, we have things ta do." Allistor boomed. Arthur blinked, and then blushed as well. He had forgotten that today would be Christmas Eve. There was no way that his brothers wouldn't notice him sneaking away. Not to mention their mother, she would be quite upset if he left. He wondered where she was off to.

Arthur knitted his brows and did his best to send down a purposeful icy glare. He didn't face much success as Allistor had already moved to unlock the front door, and the twins did their best to continue their snowball fight. Just typical, why did everyone in his family either hate or ignore him? He slammed the window shut and started to walk slowly towards the kitchen.

By now Allistor had gotten the door open, and while he unlaced his boots, the twins had grabbed the paper bags and were busy to unpack everything on the table. Arthur sat down and proceeded to inspect the ingredients. He grabbed the bag of raisins and put some in his mouth.

Soon Allistor came to join and Arthur ignored him. Allistor seemed to ignore him as well, as he proceeded to bring out pots and pans. He instructed the twins to peel potatoes, but Arthur could might as well have been made out of air. Until he suddenly said:

"Arthur, ah forgot the wine. Hurry to Mr Garcia's 'n get some bottles for mum. Hurry up, you prat!" It was once more and order and not a request.

"Where's mum?" he tried to ask, but Allistor sent a spoon flying and it was clearly not a day for talk.

Back in the hallway Arthur sighed, but moved glad for an excuse to get out. He figured he might have the chance to hurry to the vineyard and spy on Francis and Antonio. Halfway out the door he figured maybe he shouldn't. It was Christmas after all, and besides. The vineyard was a huge area, and they could be anywhere. So, instead the walked toward the village.

On the way to the village he was surprised to see how many off the younger villagers that seemed to have returned for the winter holiday. The village seemed full and busy. He passed by Ruiz café, where the pink dressed Madame Ruiz was busy serving a young couple, that seemed more interested in each other and less in the coffee she served. He winked as he passed and to his surprise Madame Ruiz waved him over. Figuring she needed something, though he could not figure what, he walked over to her.

"Arthur, oh, good of you to come by. Are you on your break as well?"

"Oui Madame, school starts in January again."

"And your mother, is she well?"

Arthur nodded. "She is. But she has been so busy lately, but she should be home for dinner." He honestly had no clue.

"Oh, so you are on your own? Who takes care of you?"

Arthur wasn't sure on the ' _take care'_ part, but Allistor was mostly in charge of the household when their mother was away.

"Allistor is."

"Oh, yes, You have him, don't you. How old is Allistor again?"

"He is 17."

"Oh, I guess he will fly away soon then. Arthur, are you busy after Christmas?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then do you mind doing me and my husband a favour? As you can tell, business is very stressful over winter and summer. Would you mind helping out for this season, of course we will compensate you. Think of it as a vacation job with free cookies."

Arthur blinked. He wasn't all too sure, but...

"I'll... I'll think about it."

Madame Ruiz smiled. "Of course. I could use some help though. This old sack of mine cannot run around like this much longer, and that girl we hired. Well, she got pregnant and is now at home with her girl. It would help if you'd want to, of course."

Arthur smiled and nodded.

"Oh, I am sorry. You better be off to wherever you were going. But think about it."

"I will." Arthur promised and hurried to Mr Garcia's, which was packed.

Arthur remembered the first time he met Mr Garcia and half the village, he hadn't been all too fond of them for all the attention and poking that it had brought him. As years had passed he had thankfully glided to a much more anonymous life. Still, he had to fight his way through a thick crowd of wives who stood tasting different types of olive oils that Mr Garcia's son was giving samples of.

Mr Garcia stood behind the counter with a large box of newly arrived wine.

"Bonjour Arthur." he said as Arthur walked up to him. "What can I help you with?"

"I am here to pick up some bottles of wine."

"Ah, well, you are in luck. I just got a new sending al the way from Tuscany this morning." Mr Garcia smiled a devious smile. "Would you like to try some?"

Arthur blinked.

"Mr Garcia? I don't think..."

Mr Garcia broke into a toothy grin. "Don't worry about that." and he brought out an open bottle and a small plastic cup from under the cashier. Arthur panicked slightly at the fact that soon he had the cup in his hand.

Mr Garcia poured himself some as well. "Saluti!" he said and swallowed the content in a quick gulp.

Arthur hesitated. He stared at the reddish liquid that smelled something weird and strongly of alcohol. But then he gulped his own cup down.

In all honesty, it tasted vile. H grimaced and Mr Garcia laughed.

"In due time, I am sure you will come to love it." he said and poured himself a glass this time. He swirled the wine and Arthur had to admit that the act itself seemed almost magical, like he was mixing some kind of brew.

" _You know, back in my old home-country, our ancestors once had a saying that vinum vita est, it means wine is life. In my old village we had such a story. One of our winemakers was the great grandson of a man that fought in the war. When I was all but a young lad, he told me how his great grandfather once owned most of the land. He was a rich man, with many properties. He had two sons, one who was strong and would work the fields on his own. The other was leaner, and was weak in the blazing sun. He was therefore considered a burden by the village rather than an asset. But, the family loved him nonetheless, and as the brother couldn't work the fields he worked to stomp grapes as they did in those days._

 _Then the war came, and many boys were called to war. But since there was something wrong with the younger brother, he wasn't allowed to help. Meanwhile, the older brother became a war-hero. He fought for several years and came home when the war was almost over, a shiny medal on his chest. But neither medals or the village praise could help him, because he was constantly haunted by the trenches and the horrors of war._

 _One morning the brother wakes up to hear as he believes the stomping of boots in the marshes, and he panics because he is certain that the war has returned. He rushes to where his brother is, and finds him stomping grapes. The older brother was furious, because he has forgotten the joys of life and sees nothing but death and torture around. "I am not marching for death" the young brother answers. "I am creating life."_

 _A year passed in the village, and things calm down, but the war still rages within the older brother who is now an outsider and detached from the world. One morning he wakes up to find his brother by his side, a bottle in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. "Brother" he said. "Brother, remember when you asked why I was marching for death and I replied that I was creating life. Brother, it has finally finished now." And he handed over the glass._

 _The older brother took a sip, and he told later that it was as if new life has entered him, because through the wine he could taste everything. His brother had made the wine for him, he was still there and very much alive."_

"What happened then?" Arthur asked, wondering why Mr Garcia would tell him such a story.

"He gradually got better, had a family of his own and passed down the story to his sons, who passed it on to their sons. And I would imagine, they in turn has passed it on once more."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"My point is, one day you too will appreciate the fine things in life. You just don't know it yet."

Arthur watched as Mr Garcia poured himself yet another glass. "Saluti" he said cheerfully "and Merry Christmas."

Arthur shrugged and quickly laid the money on the desk, which was good as it seemed that Mr Garcia's son had noticed how his father kept sipping wine. Moments later Mrs Garcia had been summoned and she seemed furious to find her husband near drunk in front of a younger teenager. With one hand carrying a duster and the other a towel she chased her husband to the back of the shop. While young Mr Garcia apologised to the customers, Arthur sneaked out and hurried home.

-000-

To Arthur's great surprise and joy Francis did come over the next day during Christmas day. The French teen was warmly wrapped in a thick woollen scarf and he had a number of small wrapped gifts with him. Brendan had opened the door, and Arthur was certain he'd lose the ability to hear anything in his left ear from the cheers of joy that surged through the house as he unwrapped the 6th edition of Harry Potter in English. Brian received a copy as well, but Brendan was the huge Potter fan of the family, but they had been unable to purchase the latest volume yet. Allistor received a large beer-stein, which he quickly hid as their mother did not allow drinking below the age of 18 (Allistor was 17 and everyone in the family but her knew that he had started drinking beer the year before). Arthur was pleasantly surprised to find a letter set, that contained quality parchments, envelopes and a nice fountain pen with blue ink. He was slightly confused, until Francis explained that he'd like to exchange letters while he was away in Paris. At first this made absolutely no sense to Arthur, after all they had emails for that, but Francis explained that he liked to save the words that people sent him, and emails could so easily be erased.

Meanwhile, the twins had teamed together and purchased a sparkling angel ornament. Angus had bought a cologne he had asked a friend from Scotland to bring to him. Arthur felt quite embarrassed, but he had purchased a blue silk ribbon. He knew it might seem a bit girly, but he also had noted how Francis' hair had grown and he knew it would look good on him. Francis seemed more than pleased and even had Arthur help him to tie it up.

Francis could not stay long. He explained that he had to return back to his mother and Antonio to light the Yule log, but he wished all of the Kirkland a happy Christmas. Arthur saw him out the door, and he figured, as he watched Francis hop away on his crutches, that a Christmas present couldn't be better than this.

 _TBC_

 **A/N:** And, that will be all for now. I will try to hurry with the next chapter, which I fear might be among the shorter sides, so hopefully it will not take forever.

And before I let you all go, anonymous review responses can be found below, and trivia has been put into my tumblr. _Thank you all so much_ for all your amazing reviews for the last chapter. I'd honestly jump onto a plane a handle out free hugs to you all, if only I knew where to find all of you. But, alas, I probably cannot afford it.

Ps: No, seriously, do not give me your addresses. If I find such reviews I will delete them for **your** safety.

 **Anonymous Review Responses** (None anonymous please re-check your PM in-boxes)

 **Francis:** "Dark Spain" is kind of my inspiration for Spain's character for this story, but I've found little outside the history books to even indicate what he would be like. I usually try to find elements out of history to influence my characters. FRUK for me is such a thing, and I sort of base Francis and Arthur's earlier relation upon funny coincidences from old French and English relations that, as far as I can see, most Hetalia-fans don't seem to have taken much notice of.

But I cannot go into too much details, but I will try to update soon. Also, I was so pleased to read you found my tumblr, which means someone actually does read it, and that made me so happy. Finally, you're Swedish! Hurra! Hälsningar från Göteborg.

 **Amlie-Aurore:** I am so happy to make you happy. It's been a few years since I last went to France, so I hope I can make you and your countrymen (and women) somewhat happy and familiar to the story. Receiving French reviews for this story has become such an honour, so thank you.

Un mille des merci pour ton review!

(J'espère mon francais n'est pas trop mal.)

 **n:** First of all, welcome to the story and thank you for reviewing. Every time I get a French review these days I consider packing my things and heading south to just embrace you all, you have all been so nice to me. Secondly, I think, after this, that it is quite clear that Arthur is jealous, and it will only play on from here. I have always loved the chemistry that FRUK brings considering yours and the UK's history. While this story barely has any historical ties (save for Arthur's interest in history), but I wanted to reflect some of the interesting whispers I've heard that despite all the Anglo-French clashes, the UK still has copied a lot of the French into its culture (while us, as Sweden, would never copy something from Denmark, aka, arch-rivals for almost our entire history).

 **Guest:** Have no fear, an update is here! And thank you so much for popping by, I do need a reminder from time to time.


	9. Antonio part IV

**Chapter 9**

 **Letters I**

January 17 2006

Mon petit Arthur

I hope you are well, and that you did not throw my gift away. Trust me, you will need it. We returned back to campus yesterday and not much has changed. The buildings are the same, our schedules are similar to last semester. I guess on the bright side Antonio seems to have found his inspiration at last. This morning he even said he wouldn't be able to date because he had to see this creation through. It's so rare for him to find that little extra so I can all but wish him well.

I realise I forgot to tell you about all the amazing people here. I've mentioned them briefly, but I never introduced them for you. I do not, and I know you will not believe me, know everyone at this campus. Paris is much larger than our petit ville, so forgive me for not spreading my flair just yet. My room-mate Gilbert says I should go slow, or they will dunk me in Seine.

Yes, I have a room-mate His name is Gilbert and he is from Eastern Berlin. He came here the day after me, and I think we have become quite close. He can be quite loud and he has this habit of watching Merrie Melodies on loudspeaker (I think he has an obsession with tiny, yellow birds). He loves history and claims he is Prussian (though we all know Prussia is gone from the modern map) and threatened one of the guys when he said otherwise. But he is fun and despite his loudness I couldn't ask for a more interesting room-mate

He was also the one to introduce me to Antonio. Wouldn't you believe, we all kind of ran into each other. People here call us the Bad Touch Trio, I don't know what that means, but Feliciano said he thinks it means we are just the three people everyone at campus wish they could be. I think he thinks too highly of us.

Oh, yes, you wouldn't know who Feliciano is. Well, Gilbert has a younger brother, Ludwig. He is still in Germany, but he visits almost once every two weeks. Some time before we left before Christmas Gilbert told us that Ludwig started dating (before him as well), and he had found a cute little Italian boyfriend. Feliciano is absolutely adorable, so I am surprised how he can be around someone like Ludwig. He can be quite intimidating.

Wouldn't you believe it, Feliciano also has a twin brother, Lovino. He came along as well just before Christmas and apparently he knows Antonio as well. To be honest, I wouldn't say they get very much along. The first time they met, after years as I can tell, Lovino took a tomato and smashed it into Antonio's face. Poor Toni was quite in a shock.

And Arthur, however fun my new life is, I cannot help but to miss you, maman, Mrs Kirkland and your brothers. Life here with you isn't the same, and I hope when your time comes, that you will come to Paris as well. I'd love to show you everything.

Francis

PS: do not worry, I will make sure no one reads your reply.

-000-

February 11 2006

Dear Francis

Well, at least it seems you have settled quite well, but don't expect me to come running after you, frog. I am quite busy here as well. After Christmas I took up on Madam Ruiz's offer on a job. Not that I am in desperate need of money, though if you are nice I might save up and come to see you.

And what is this that hear about a room-mate? Prussian, is he for real? He honestly sounds like some sort of jerk with that description. I hope you are careful.

Though I am glad you have met some... decent, people. Feliciano seem nice, maybe you should hang around him more often. Don't know about his brother, does he have anger problems or something. I mean, who would smash a tomato into someone after years? Then again, I don't mind if his target was Antonio, that guy probably has some dark history in his past.

I mean, how much do we know about him really? And don't tell me that I don't know, I heard him tell his life-story at your mother's house.

Arthur

PS: Good, I have hidden your letters far away from Allistor. Cannot help for the twins though, they near ripped it out of my hands.

PPS: I am not that little.

-000-

April 4 2006

Mon petit Arthur, yes, you are still shorter than I.

What do you mean about Antonio? You still haven't said, and we speak half the time. I want to know. Are you jealous by chance? Do not worry, your time will come as well my friend. One day I would imagine a nice girl to fall into your British charm.

I am quite fortunate. My teacher asked me to help out with one of his exhibitions. He hose me as an honorary student. I think this might be my chance, I plan to send him some of my pictures. Isn't it exciting? I've sent you some copies. Please frame them, I think they would look good. And wish me luck.

I will write back soon and tell you how it goes. I am quite busy as it is, but if you can make it I promise to meet you at the station. If not, I will return home for summer.

Francis

-000-

April 15 2006

Arthur, Arthur, I got in! My teacher told me yesterday he liked my angles and he will include them in the exhibition. I am so excited! This can be my break and I need it. I know you call me an attention seeker, maybe you are right, but to make art you need attention. Wish me luck.

I do have some bad news. Antonio asked me to go with him to Spain. I cannot say no, he wants me to meet his mother.

I am sorry, maybe I can come home for winter. I'll call you.

Francis

-000-

April 27 2006

Frog

I am happy your exhibition went well, and you're not an attention seeker. You're a narcissist. What do you mean you are not coming home? It bugs me, I had to ask your mum for information. You haven't picked up any of my calls since. Aren't we supposed to keep an open line. I hope you read this, or I will personally come over and beat you up for it.

Does that Spaniard really need you for this entire summer? I honestly didn't believe anyone else could be more self-centric than you. Please don't, summer will be torture here without you. I need someone to talk to, with all this chaos going on at home. Allistor is evil, the twins are a menace and mum never pays attention to any of us these days. Despite being the narcissistic frog you are, you are the only person I can talk to normally, so I need you for my sanity. Come home!

Arthur

PS: I've grown, so I am _not_ shorter than you.

-000-

May 11 2006

Mon petit Arthur

You cannot deny it, height isn't your thing.

I have spoken to Antonio, and he said I can go back home for a few days. So, I will see you in August. Please don't be angry, mon petit. I never meant to hurt you. I miss you.

Francis

-000-

June 4 2006

Francis

I miss you too. I miss having you around, I miss having someone to talk to. You know me, I am not as open as you. I have kind of envied that about you, you can just be there and people will love you. Instead, I am only interesting for my accent or my English.

I miss you a lot. I don't want us to live so separately. Please, I need you back.

Arthur

-000-

 _I need your love_

TBC

 **A/N:** I warned you, this is short. It will sadly take some time for me for the next chapter. I have four pages of notes once more to write, that tends to take a while.

 **Anonymous review responses:**

 **N:** I have to confess... I have yet to go to the French countryside. I really, really want to one day, because I am sure it would be beautiful.

For this story I did google as many images as I could, and I have stayed for a few weeks in the countryside of Tuscany in Italy, which is part of the inspiration for this story. I try to look at geography and culture as much as possible, so I am so happy you felt my re-imagining of the French country to be sort of accurate. Yes, most people probably think of Paris when they think of France, which is sad. You have such a beautiful country, and in my experience often it's good to step outside the cities to really start appreciating the country.

Though, I must warn if we ever do meet, we ought to meet in France. Sadly, my part of Sweden is quite similar to the United Kingdom. It rains too much, weather is windy and sunshine is sometimes rare. Not to mention, my fingers are quite often frozen whenever I write on this story (I live in the coldest room), but once Spring and Summer comes my country will be even more lovely again. Because then we can remove all of our extra layers and enjoy the sun again.


	10. Antonio part V

**Important:** I am going to update this story as well to AO3. Do not worry, I have no intention of taking it down from Fanfiction, but I figured a while ago that I could use a second back up.

BTW, I will keep the 'h's in Francis speak from now on. Arthur and Francis have (to my mind) been speaking French to each other now for a few years. What, you really didn't think they'd keep to English all the time? Our little Brit had to learn French at some point.

Though in general, in my mind it has never mattered really in what language they speak, because I figure they'd switch just to annoy people around them at times. I do that all the time, there is a reason we have something in this country known as Swenglish.

PS: **WARNING** for a fair amount of violence in this chapter.

 **Chapter 10**

 **The Flirt**

Arthur wasn't sure whether he should have been relieved or unhappy, but the last few days had been quite cold. He didn't really mind it. Temperatures had reached an excruciating high over the last two months. It had been pure torture on everyone. It was a wonder people could still smile, because even in France, the weather had been ridiculous.

He was dressed in a pair of beige trousers, green shirt and had a jacket slung over his shoulder. During the months that had passed he was proud to say he had grown and added some to his height, though he would never be as tall as Allistor and a couple of other teenagers in the village. Still, height wasn't everything and he didn't care for the names they had given him. In fact, he had invented a couple of his own that nowadays circled like a mantra in his head.

He was proud to say that the French had yet to conquer him.

Well, almost.

He had done a lot of thinking over the last couple of months. He would often find himself to replay the images of that Christmas in his head. He hadn't been sure at first, but as days turned to weeks and weeks into months, the longing had only intensified. He truly did miss him, but not as it used to be. Once he would miss having someone around to play with. Now, he really didn't need that anymore. Francis was much more. He wasn't a playmate, he wasn't someone Arthur would demand around him just because he needed someone whom he could talk to, no. He knew now that he needed him for more reasons than he could count, and thus it hurt.

It hurt to be apart.

But he would have to endure. It would have been selfish on his account to drag Francis back. Even if he could find a million reasons to do it, he knew Francis would not want to. And that would be enough for now.

He just hoped he'd convince him that Antonio wasn't what he seemed.

"The train from Paris will arrive shortly." the female announcer spoke through the loudspeakers. Arthur stretched and put his shoulders back.

Quite soon enough the blue and white train arrived. Arthur waited patiently. Francis had texted him that this would be the time he'd arrive. He saw many people get on and off the train, but he had yet to see Francis.

And then he saw him.

Could a man even become more beautiful than the last time?

Francis hair was shorter than last time he saw him, but yet it looked good on him. He was dressed in a satin blue shirt and black pants, that went well with polished shoes. He looked just as professional and stylish as you could, and Arthur could definitely see the successes he had over the last couple of weeks, he just wished he could have been there.

Arthur waved, and Francis caught his eyes. He waved back and walked steadily towards him. Arthur couldn't help but to blush as they soon embraced each other.

It felt good. No, scratch that, it felt amazing to have his best friend back. Arthur let go reluctantly. Francis eyed him from top to bottom and smiled broadly.

"Arthur, you look well." he said.

"So do you. I hear you have become the talk of Paris." Arthur responded back, earning a chuckle.

"Of course. I am just that amazing." Francis said cockily. They shared another happy look and then broke into a fit of laughter.

Arthur couldn't help it. It was as if they had been split apart for years, though it was only months. He wondered what had changed between them? Last time when Francis had returned so many things had seemed so formal. Maybe it had all been Antonio's fault after all.

" _Francis_!"

Arthur's smile suddenly dropped and he clenched his fists to the sound of a familiar, but unwelcome, voice. He couldn't believe it, but Antonio had appeared behind Francis, a tattered old rucksack on his back. He looked less amused to see Francis with Arthur and Arthur could swear that the weather had gotten even colder than before.

"Oh, Antonio. I am sorry, but I wanted to say hi to Arthur. Forgive me, but I have missed him a lot."

"I see." Antonio said. "You ran off so suddenly" he continued and his shoulders slumped slightly. Francis walked over to him and said something quietly that Arthur couldn't make out due to all the sounds around them. But he didn't miss how Francis leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on Antonio's lips.

Arthur felt like gagging. He could never get used to that and he turned around to catch the view of a woman dropping a bag of china. The sound of crashing porcelain knocked both Francis and Antonio back from their own little world.

"Oh." was all he said, before he ran over to help her. Arthur smiled at the way Francis would act to help people, and his smile even got broader to see Antonio's reaction. The Spaniard seemed less than pleased.

-000-

Francis later joined Arthur at the Old Vineyard. Antonio had stayed at Francis house to rest. He explained that he was tired as both he and Francis had travelled straight from Barcelona. The two friends had rejoiced in their reunion and had spent almost an hour at a leisurely stroll around the old buildings and overgrown vines. It had been unusually exiting. Francis had never forgotten his dream of restoring this place one day, and they had discussed how they'd do it. Francis had envisioned getting his name out in the world. He wanted to earn enough money to be able to purchase the vineyard and have enough saved to restore it. And Arthur had to admit that things were going well for him. But he didn't feel like losing. It was as if they had a small competition of who would get there first.

Their excursion finally brought them back to the old olive tree garden and they slumped down. Arthur laid down to stare up at the lush labyrinth of branches, leaves and tiny, tiny fruits that would turn ripe in the autumn.

Francis sat with his back to the large trunk and his brows were knitted in deep concentration. During their walk he had taken several pictures, which he had explained that he had taken for his own personal collection. His favourite, as it turned out, was one he had taken of them both. Francis had found an old chair by the main house and sat down, with his camera timed on a tripod. Arthur had reluctantly remained in the picture, but you could see a clear pout as Francis held on to him.

Arthur heard the older teenager chuckled and he looked to his side. "What's so funny?" he asked.

Francis didn't answer him, but showed him the picture he had taken. The picture showed the scene right after their first. The chair Francis had sat on had broken down, and since Francis held onto Arthur the blond English teen had fallen on top of him. It had taken them a few seconds to disentangle, but during this process the camera had taken a second picture. In this picture Arthur was on all four above Francis. His face was red, while Francis seemed as calm as ever. From the ground the present Arthur turned around to hide a second blush. He had tried to forget that embarrassment.

"I think this might be my second favourite." Francis announced happily. Arthur simply grunted.

"I hope you're not putting that on exhibition. I'll kill you if you do."

All he heard was a chuckle and a click as Francis shut off the camera. "Don't worry. This is going to my private collection."

"Just don't show it to _him_."

Francis smiled. Why did Arthur always feel like melting when that smile was turned to him?

"Don't worry, I won't." he said with a promise.

That made Arthur feel a little better. But his face was still red and he needed to steer this conversation somewhere else.

"Francis, you know... about our dream."

"Yes."

"Well, I was wondering. Do you see Antonio in it?"

Francis went silent for a minute. Arthur could swear his heart beat louder than ever.

"No... actually, I don't."

Arthur felt as if there had been an explosion in his heart and it beat even harder and louder than before. He could count his own pulse if necessary.

"Really."

"Mhm, I don't think he would like it. With Antonio, the thing is. He has dreams of his own. Sometimes I actually get the feeling that we can clash a little. He has his goals and I have mine. But I don't worry about it. I am sure it will take us a few years to see this through."

"And then?"

Arthur sat up. He was shoulder to shoulder with Francis, who all but seemed to radiate with that brilliant smile of his.

"Then, my friend, we spread love."

"I like that." Arthur admitted. He really liked the sound of that. Something within him seemed to want to roar out of pure bliss that whatever the future brought, the Spaniard had yet to conquer that from them. He gave a content sigh and closed his eyes. He felt content just to listen to the light breeze in the leaves. Francis went back to check his photographs. It was so peaceful that Arthur soon fell asleep.

Arthur dreamed of the vineyard in what he would imagine to be the new glory days. A smile plastered across his lips and for once he felt calm.

-000-

He woke up hours later to something tickling him on the nose. As he opened his eyes he heard a buzz and figured it had been a bee. Sleepily he looked around and nearly jumped in surprise. Francis lay beside him, head turned to his side. It struck him that the French teen looked so serene in his sleep he didn't dare touch him, less make a sound.

But the serene peace did not last long before a familiar but to Arthur unwelcome voice boomed: "Francis, mi amor, where are you? Your mother said you'd be here."

Francis jerked awake as suddenly as if something would have bit him. He didn't even seem dazed, just surprised to see Antonio walk up to them.

"Toni? What time is it?"

"5:30pm. We were getting worried."

Arthur watched helplessly as Francis hurried over to his boyfriend. "I am sorry, I fell asleep. I didn't mean to make you worried." He was greeted with a smile, which made Arthur's throat clench.

"Arthur, I am sorry but I have to go. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yeah..." Arthur rasped and watched the leave. In such a short moment his dreams seemed to crash down upon him like an avalanche.

-000-

Arthur's nightmare was sadly just about to start. The day after he overslept and barely made it in time for his shift at Madame Ruiz's café. Luckily, Madame Ruiz didn't seem to notice, so he quickly grabbed his uniform and his apron and proceeded to brew the morning coffee. He was relieved that he could take a break from the disaster known as Antonio. The sounds of the coffee brewer and the buzz of the people gave him a soothing effect. It was quite a shock to suddenly hear said Spaniard from a corner of the café, busy talking on his mobile phone. He had to be wrong, someone up there had to hate him? Indeed, as he turned to have a proper look he saw the top of curly brown hair in one of the chairs with an empty up of coffee beside him. He was rapidly talking with someone on his phone.

Arthur wasn't much for spying. But it was odd to see Antonio all by himself, and who was he talking to?

Arthur grabbed one of the towels and started to scrub coffee stains from one of the nearby tables, but he made sure to keep his back to Antonio at all times. Luckily, Antonio hadn't taken notice of him, and with his back turned to him he could clearly hear everything.

"Sí, sí, lo siento. I mean it this time, Lovi... No, don't hang up on me, how was I supposed to know. No, I didn't mean it like that, no... don't twist my words."

Arthur stopped momentarily in his tracks. Lovi... that sounded kind of familiar. Hadn't Francis mentioned a _Lovino_ from time to time during their calls? And if he remembered, Antonio had gotten a tomato smashed in his face by him. He only remembered because he had done a small victory dance at the mention of that, not that anyone would know.

"No, no... you don't understand, mi corazon. The guy, well... he is just a thing, bueno? Yes, just a thing. I still love you, mi corazon, tu eres mi vida! I know, I know... but... but..."

There was a long pause. Arthur held his breath, had he heard him wrong?

"I understand, but Lovi... listen. I cannot break with him now... the guy is like me, too sensitive. No, but once I figure something out, we can... no, no, wait, don't go yet. I love you, please don't leave me again! I wouldn't be able to handle it. I see, well... I'll be back in a few days. Francis has an exam in January, so we should be able to go out on Thursday, what do you say? Yes, yes, I will do as you say, I am your eternal slave... Yes, I understand, I love you too. Te amo!"

Arthur felt rage like he had never felt before in his life. It was one thing that he had never liked this guy, one thing that he and the Spaniard seemed to dislike each other from the start. He turned quickly and prepared to shout back at the Spaniard for being the sore loser he truly was.

The problem was that Antonio had already gotten out of his chair, dumped some euros on the table and was quickly leaving the café. Arthur hurried after. Madame Ruiz hadn't even noticed. She didn't see Arthur leave, face red by anger. If she had she would have stopped him.

Arthur caught up to Antonio two streets away from the café. The Spaniard hadn't noticed and whistled on some kind of Spanish melody. Arthur stormed. Had he been the bull and Antonio the bullfighter then the Spaniard would have been one of those unlucky ones who lost to the bull. Arthur wasn't a bull, nor a bully. But he had fists and without any warning his right one connected to the back of Antonio's head.

Antonio fell to the ground. Arthur felt an adrenaline rush like he had never before. He felt oddly relieving to finally punch the guy. From below him Antonio groaned, the punch had not been powerful enough to knock him out, but he had clearly felt it. The Spaniard scrambled to his feet and turned nimbly. He was surprised to see who his attacker was.

"Arthur?"

"Yes." Arthur said and didn't even react to the fact that Antonio was almost a head taller than him.

"Why? Why did you hit me?" Antonio asked, and genuinely seemed surprised. Arthur's eyes widened slightly at the funny statement. Was the guy for real? Was he such an idiot? Had he already forgotten his own words?

"You don't know why? Are you really that stupid?" Arthur asked and raised his fist to land a second punch. This time Antonio was ready, and blocked him. But he didn't block the left kick that Arthur quickly reflected with. Antonio groaned as Arthur hit his side. Arthur smiled victoriously for a moment, but lost balance and fell over. Antonio had clutched his side and did not seem amused.

"Bastardo!" the Spaniard uttered between clenched teeth. Arthur tried to get back on his feet, but Antonio kicked him. He hit him in the stomach which felt like as if someone had hit him with a bat. Arthur screamed, which made the Spaniard jump back. His eyes were wide and he looked surprised at his own actions. Arthur heaved and tried to catch his breath. A fire shone in his eyes and he was determined to see this fight through.

Antonio seemed to have an inner conflict with himself. Should he or should he not attack? Arthur decided for him as he scrambled back on his feet, pain replaced by the sheer will to settle his score and hatred. He ran and pushed Antonio into a nearby wall.

"You are a sick bastard!" he shouted as Antonio hit the wall and crooked. By now their fight had earned a small crowd of spectators. Most were people he recognised, and they were all staring at him as if they had seen a monster. Some of the ladies whispered to each other, one mother held her child close to her. A few middle aged men in berets were running towards to stop the fight, but it wasn't them that stopped Arthur from his rage.

"Arthur, _arrête_!"

It was Francis.

Francis had seen them fight, and now he stood between the two of them to stop the fight. His back was turned to Antonio, the man he had decided to protect. But that also meant that now he faced Arthur, who felt powerless to do anything.

He was such an idiot. What had he done?

Francis looked at him with eyes that spelled out hurt, confusion and strangely enough, fear. He was afraid of him, and Arthur felt like crying. He felt as if he had given in to his inner demon and therefore lost his ticket to heaven for good. As he stilled Francis turned over to help Antonio. He inspected the damage. Antonio was bleeding. Not a lot, but he could see specks of blood from where he had hit his head on the wall. Francis touched the mark gently and pulled back almost as soon as he touched it. By now the men had arrived and they quickly helped Francis to carry Antonio to one of their cars, to drive them to a doctor.

Arthur was left in his mess. The crowd dispersed. Arthur sat down on top of an stone wall. He didn't find it in his legs to stand, his legs wouldn't carry him. Finally, Madame Ruiz found him as he sat there in tears. She helped him back to the café. She didn't ask him any questions, or treat him any different. She simply allowed him to sit down at the back of the café, with a cup of lemon tea and one of her éclairs. Then she waited patiently as he cried and cursed himself for his stupidity. She promised him, no matter how impossible as it seemed, that all would pass and wounds would heal. But for now, it was okay to cry.

And cry he did.

 _TBC_

 **A/N:** I am so evil at times, and yes, being younger can suck at times. And yes, this has, as a twist, a large spoonful of Spamano in it.

Translations:

 _Spanish_ :

Mi amor: my love

Sí: yes

Lo siento: I'm sorry

Mi corazon: my heart

bueno?: okay?

Tu eres mi vida: You are my life.

Te amo: I love you.

Bastardo: bastard

 _French:_

Arrête!: Stop!

 **Anonymous Review Responses:**

 **N:** I am sorry. I know you want Arthur and Francis to just cast out Antonio and live happily ever after, sadly, I have much more in store for the both of them. As it is now it wouldn't really make much sense for them to get together, and especially now (I am sorry, please do not send the French army after me, because they'd probably rip my country to shreds). Will they be friends once more? Will they get over this? Well, I know the answer to this already, but you will just have to wait and see.

BTW, don't feel bad you live North. I would probably not have minded to live in Northern Sweden either... if it wasn't for the fact that it's even darker there. We get so little sunlight during winter as it already is here, up there, they barely get any.

 **Francis:** Thank you! Your review made me so excited because it's really difficult to add letter-based chapters, and that chapter terrified me because I was sure it would bore some people out. I felt so bad to leave you all waiting, but writing takes its time. I also felt like I should apologise. In my head it kind of goes that certain things they speak mainly through their letters, but in general they speak a lot over the phone or through SMS. Remember, this is the modern era, so of course they talk. Yes, I see Arthur as an introvert, which is why he probably doesn't call Francis more than once every two-three weeks at times. But, at the same time, I'd like to think that this doesn't matter. I kind of base this around a friend of mine and me. We can literally forget to talk for half a year, and when we do remember to call each other, it's like nothing ever happened. Also, many of the new friends Francis has made will be introduced later in the story, so I wanted to simply lay out the grounds for those future chapters now.

And before I forget. Tjenare du goa Stockholmare, hoppas du har det änna gött däruppe! (Sorry, I couldn't resist)


	11. Antonio part VI

Sorry for the delays... to summarize why I give you two words. Real life. Not sure how updates will look towards this summer, and I have finally fought my way through unemployment, so perhaps updates will be slower. But, hopefully, this can also motivate me to work faster.

NEWS: On a happier note, on my tumblr: sunshineauthornotes, I have posted a series of bonuses for the course of this story. By each goal, I will bring you all a gift as to show my appreciation, so please go check. If you guys keep clicking into this story I will share some interesting little things, because I love you all! As it stands this story has a little over 1700 hits, so we are quite close to passing 2000 views. Holy crap, you are all amazing.

 **Chapter 11**

 **Love is Hurt**

Arthur did not leave Madame Ruiz's until his shift was over. He slowly walked back to his home. Of course his home had to be next to Francis. Francis, who most likely hated him by now. It had to be the longest walk he had ever taken in his life and with each stride that he took, he wished it would lead him to some kind of idea what to do, but none came.

Thus he was surprised to soon find himself outside Francis' door. For the first time in his life he felt nervous as he stood there. He wasn't sure what to do or what to say. He raised his hand as to knock, but stopped halfway. Should he knock? Should he ring the bell?

But he had to try to do something. He had to mend whatever had broken of their relation that day. Arthur raised his hand once more and finally his fist connected to the wood with a loud knock. It followed by another knock, and then an even louder knock. As seconds passed the knocks rapidly turned to a serious of bangs on the hard surface.

"Francis, please, open up!" he shouted. He didn't know even why he shouted, but the tears from earlier had resurfaced. His efforts were but to be met by silence, as the door remained shut. Francis didn't respond, he didn't even see as much as a clue that any life existed behind that door.

His frantic knocks and bangs soon started to fade. It became clear that Francis did not want to speak. He had no interest in seeing Arthur after all. If scores could tally, he had lost this fight. He was certain, before he blacked out, that he could hear Antonio say something from deep inside. He felt as if was falling, and that there was an empty void down deep there to forever drown him within its darkness.

Deeper, deeper, forever deeper he'd fall. He didn't even notice the door finally open, nor the hands that would carry him inside.

-000-

He couldn't remember what happened. He was in a familiar room on a soft couch, with a blanket drawn up to his chin. His head hurt, his vision felt almost clouded and everything kept spinning. It took a while for him to focus. As his vision and exhausted mind cleared little by little the fears and dreads crashed down upon him. He started to feel sick and feared to turn his head, because he could hear movement beside him.

"Hello Arthur."

Slowly he turned his head. Francis sat on a chair next to the sofa and in all fairness he seemed to mirror the pain that Arthur felt. His hair hung in an unusual unkempt way, for being Francis. His eyes were red and bloodshot from tears, he had been crying as well. His lips were drawn in a thin line, as if he was trying not to say the words he dearly wished he could say. But that wouldn't have been like him. Francis was always the one who knew what to say.

But now he didn't say anything.

For minutes they existed there in complete silence. You'd literally be able to hear a pin hit the floor. Finally Arthur spoke in the most neutral tone he could muster.

"Where is Antonio?"

Francis took a deep inhale.

"Upstairs. I tended to him before I came down here."

Arthur blinked.

"Will he be okay?"

Francis nodded.

"He'll live. He's going to have to find a way to cover some of those bruises, but he will heal."

Arthur felt yet once more as if something big and heavy had gathered at his throat that threatened to spill over, but he wouldn't let it. "I'm sorry." he tried to say, but the words only came out as in a whisper.

Francis leaned forward to give him a glass of water he had set on the table for him. Arthur took it without a sound. He didn't say anything, he didn't even find the strength in him to look Francis in the eyes anymore. He felt so ashamed of himself. He had never before lashed out on anyone, with the rare exception of his brothers, but that was kind of allowed.

He raised the glass to his lips, but the guilt was still caught in his throat. He couldn't swallow, he felt choked and unable to fight back. Defeated he lowered the glass and stared at the smooth surface of the water.

From his vision he could see Francis lean forward to take his hand. A sudden warmth embraced him by that small touch. But when he finally looked up he only saw hurt and confusion within those blue eyes and the pain returned tenfold.

"Arthur." Francis said, and he looked close to tears himself. "Why did you do it?"

Arthur wished he could have run out of the room like a scared rabbit, but he felt trapped beneath Francis' gaze. Instead he fiddled with his glass, nearly spilling the content on his lap.

"I..." he started, but words wouldn't form. What should he say? Should he spell out the truth? It might finally get him somewhere, but would Francis believe him? He wasn't so sure. But he had to try, right?"

"I... I saw Antonio talk to someone." he finally said in a low voice. Francis leaned back, his face void from any readable expression. Arthur figured he was trying to understand what he had just been told.

"Go on." Francis said after a minute of thinking.

"It was during my shift at the café. I was surprised to see Antonio there, you weren't anywhere to be seen. He talked to someone, I think it might have been that guy, you know, Lovino; the one with the huge temperament. Nonetheless he seemed to set a date. He kept saying things in Spanish that I didn't understand, but he did mention..."

It was now or never...

"He mentioned that he loved Lovino. Francis, I think he's cheating on you."

He felt better for saying it, but Francis didn't utter a sound. Instead, the French teenager put his hand over his eyes and sat like that for at least a minute. Then, to his astonishment, he saw tears behind those slender fingers.

Francis sighed.

"Arthur... is this why you chased him and beat him up?"

Yet once more his throat swelled to the point that no sounds could be made.

"You shouldn't have." Francis said, lowered his hands. Arthur saw the faint traces of wetness from where Francis had cried. "I hoped... I hoped it was for something else. I hoped, I hoped you'd mistaken him for someone, or maybe you had been threatened, but why? Why did you decide to erect justice by yourself?"

Still nothing could be said.

"I think you should know, for future days, that those two have known each other almost as long as we've known each other. We all love our friends, ever since they reunited they've been a bit of everywhere together. It's even made me jealous at times. But it's no excuse Arthur, it's no excuse for what you did."

"I didn't." Arthur finally managed to say, but by now tears welled up and he lost vision. He had never meant to go this far and it scared him.

"I know you didn't, but... me and Antonio will return to Paris in a three days. I think, it's best if you stay out of our way. We can talk some other time, but for now. I think. I think we need a break."

It was as if they had broken apart, and Arthur knew he could very well lose him.

-000-

It was the first time in years that Arthur had revisited that old part of himself. But that night, when the entire Kirkland house had gone to bed, he sat with his old, now tattered, mint bunny plush and talked. Tears streamed down his eyes and he couldn't get them to stop. At first, he cried for his stupidity, but that hadn't lasted very long. There are just so many ways to mentally hurt yourself before that becomes too exhausting. Next he had cried from fear. He was scared of his own actions and how his rage had taken over so suddenly. But mostly, he was now scared for losing Francis. He had tried to text. He had tried to send all the apologies he could muster. But Francis hadn't answered a single one, and it felt horrible.

He dreamt that night that he stood on white cliffs by Francis, who was slowly walking away. As Arthur watches Francis turns, smiles, and then continues walking. He never turns back.

-000-

Arthur barely saw Francis for the rest of the duration of his stay. Neither did they talk. The very few times he would glimpse upon the French teen would be peeks from his window or at times during his shift at the café. Francis would often bring Antonio to the village, where they'd drink some coffee and enjoy the promise of a better day. Antonio wore bandages to cover the wounds on his head and he seemed quite docile in comparison to his usual annoying behaviour. What made his day worse was that half the village sympathised greatly with the Spaniard and by now Arthur had become quite unpopular within the area. Thankfully, they had not raised the pitchforks and demanded his departure yet.

Some people, like Madame Ruiz, treated the incident as nothing more than young peoples' quarrel and seemed quite indifferent to the incident and though many had initially reacted to the violence, they could also tell that Arthur truly regretted his actions. It still didn't help the growing amount of insults thrown his way. His mood had dropped tenfold and he was near back to hating Antonio once more. But this time, he made sure to keep his distance. It was better for everyone.

It's not hard to figure how annoying it was that during Francis' final day home, the couple sat down at the outdoor tables at Madame Ruiz café. Thankfully, Arthur had been tasked to serve and clean some other tables indoors, so he didn't have to face either of them.

A cute girl, Chloé, was the girl that carried their orders; a cup of espresso and a cup of regular black coffee. Their trunks were parked on the side, so Arthur guessed it was soon time to depart. He couldn't help but to stare at them through the open window of the café, where the sounds of their conversation carried through. Arthur groaned. Would this torture never end? He was torn between wishing to be left alone again, and running to apologise to Francis. At the end, he chose neither.

"I cannot wait to get back. I don't mind coming here, your mother is so nice, but if this keeps up I will be stuck on six of my seven lives." Antonio said with a sigh.

There was a pause. Then Francis spoke. "Seven? I thought cats had nine lives."

"Isn't it seven?"

There was a pause. Arthur could hear the clinking of the china, which he guessed was due to the two of them sipping coffee.

"I suppose" Francis continued "it's good to return. I am worried what Gilbert meant when he said that he slept on that park bench."

"Gil will be fine, you worry too much."

"Wouldn't you?"

There was another pause.

"I don't want to be mean, but... your friend, Arthur. He truly is something." Antonio continued with a chuckle.

"I don't see the humour."

"I wasn't laughing. But still, you have some weird choices in friends."

"Same to you." Francis chuckled slightly as well. Arthur guessed the two of them truly did enjoy each other's company. "Just think about Lovino. You still haven't told me why he punched you like that?"

There was an awkward pause.

"I... well... I won't deny, but I think I deserved that one."

"I won't pry. I am still curious. One of these days I will find out."

There was a small clink of what sounded like cups hitting the saucers.

"When does the train depart again?" Antonio continued and seemed to change the subject.

"A little to an hour, don't worry. Drink up!"

"Don't you think you should talk to him, before we leave? You won't have the chance for months."

There was yet a pause, as if Francis was thinking. Arthur could feel his heart hammer beneath his ribs.

"No, not today. Not yet. It's weird. I don't know what to say to him."

"Francis, a word of advice. Leaving unfinished business is never good for anyone. Trust me, I know."

Arthur walked over to the window, chores and work forgotten momentarily. He looked to the sounds of their voices and surely he saw them at the very furthest distance from where he stood. Neither took notice of him, so he stayed and watched.

"Since when did you get so wise?" Francis asked and leaned forward. He was dressed in a violet cotton shirt and to Arthur's surprise and pleasant delight, he wore the blue ribbon in his hair, the one he had given to Francis that Christmas.

"I'm no wiser than you, in fact I am an idiot." Antonio said and pouted.

"Don't say that..."

"It's true... it wasn't you that Arthur decided to rage his hormones at. Speaking of which, he packs quite a punch for being so small."

"He is still my friend though."

"Exactly my point, go. Before..."

"I'll write to him." Francis said quickly. Antonio flew his hands in the air.

"I give! I'll never be able to understand your logics."

"I will talk, just not now. Look, lets just drop the subject. I will talk when I am ready."

Antonio sighed.

"If I didn't know you better I'd say you loved this boy."

"Of course I do. Hold him as dear to me as a brother."

"Francis, I hate to be the one to tell you, but keep in mind. He's still a child. I cannot understand for the life of me how you two can be so close. Wasn't he in his diapers when you two met."

Francis laughed.

"I beg your pardon. He may be like my little brother, but I would never regard him as nothing more or less than my best friend. Are you jealous? Because trust me, you don't have to be."

Arthur turned straight to avoid the sickening sight when Francis leaned forward for a kiss. His heart raced and a flood of tears threatened to escape his eyes. A brother, a friend... that was all he would ever be.

-000-

It was later that very day, after Francis and Antonio's train departed, that Arthur locked himself in his room. First thing he did was to throw his things around, then he screamed and then he cried. Luckily, no one but Allistor was home, and his brother didn't seem to bother. When the tears stopped flowing and when there was nothing more to throw around that wasn't already lying by his feet Arthur had made a decision. He unlocked the door, stole a handful of candles and a lighter from one of the cabinets, then hurried back. He rinsed away some of the rubble from the floor and fetched a piece of chalk he had stolen from the school. He drew a circle, than a star and placed the candles at the star's edges. Few of his friends and families knew he had a passion to study old magic rituals, but it had slowly turned into an obscure hobby.

He wanted to somehow break the love between them. He kept asking himself why he couldn't be stronger and just do more? He had so many things he wanted to destroy that evening: the love between Francis and Antonio, the event that had transpired between himself and Antonio, his own darkness and jealousy that he felt whenever he saw the two of them together. He took out a picture he had of Francis, one he had of Antonio that Francis once sent, and his own school photo.

He started murmuring spells he had learnt from a book he found at a market. He hoped that he could curse whatever ailments that had befallen him. He was so busy in his work that he neither noticed or heard that someone climbed the stairs and opened the door to his room.

"Are ye mad?" Allistor shouted. In quick strides his brother had knocked the book from his hands and blew out all the candles. "Are ye trying to murdur us all?"

Arthur glared at his brother, but Allistor took a firm grip on Arthur's shoulders and started to shake him. It hurt, his brother had an iron grip that was sure to leave bruises. Arthur screamed and tried to kick himself free, but Allistor didn't seem to take note. A Scottish berserking rage had befallen over the older Kirkland, and he didn't let go until Arthur fell over.

"What wur ye trying to do?" Allistor asked, he had stopped shouting, but his voice still held an icy tone.

Arthur didn't answer. Allistor took his silence as an answer and examined the mess. Quite soon he spotted the three pictures, all with burnt edges.

"What is this?" he asked and held the pictures in front of Arthur's face. Arthur simply turned away. He tried to look immobile, but his brother would have none of that. "Arthur answer me!" Allistor repeated, Arthur still kept silent.

Then Allistor hit him straight on the cheek. Arthur stumbled as a burning sting flared over his right cheek.

"Arthur, answer me honestly. What's this about?"

Arthur bit his lips. He stared at the picture of Francis and new tears threatened to form. Why had he chosen that picture? It was a picture Francis had given to him. Someone else had obviously taken it, as Francis seemed to have fallen asleep by a window in it. He looked so serene and peaceful, and...

Allistor saw the slight change of Arthur's expression and he sighed. His whole composure crumpled and Arthur heard him say over and over: "Na, na... nae that. Nae mah brother too..."

Then Allistor took the picture of Francis and ripped it into pieces. Arthur saw and once again he tried to punch, kick or just wound his brother somehow. But unlike his fight with Antonio, his brother was very strong and used to fighting. Arthur found himself hitting the floor with a thud.

"Arthur, are ye sure abou' this?" Allistor asked towering over him. Arthur nodded. "How do ye know?"

"I just do." Arthur finally spoke and there was a venom to his voice. If he had to protect his own causes, then so be it. "I've known for years." he added.

Allistor put his hand over his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Mah own brother." he added and backed slightly. Arthur took this as an opportunity to stand up to take on the fight, but Allistor didn't make any second (or third) attempt of beating him up. Instead, he sat down on Arthur's bed, and he honestly did seem worried.

This surprised Arthur. But he wasn't about to drop his guard. He hated to have his least favourite brother so close to his belongings, after all, who could forget Allistor's attempts with Mint Bunny.

"Sit." Allistor said. It was an order, so Arthur took to his chair and made sure to keep his distance.

"I want ye to listen. I won't be able to halt ye, from bein' gay, but I'm wantin' ye to keep this in mind. A few years ago, A met a guy. His name is Cormac, he came to France for holibags. He's from Ireland 'n we became fleet mukkers. Ye ne'er took notice, ye were too busy playin' with those friends ye made. Efter Cormac returned to th'isles we kept writing to each other through emails 'n letters. Then twa years ago he suddenly stopped. A didn't know how come, but he wrote back only a few months back to tell me how come. Cormac, A think he knew for a long time that he was gay. Kinch was, his folk are heavily Catholic and his father believed that homosexuality is the worst of sins. When Cormac told him, 'n it took him a lot of courage to do so, his father hit him. His folk threw him out and almost all of his mukkers abandoned him. He got jammy in the end, his grandfather took him in 'n he can stay there until he graduates. Then he'll have to find his own place."

There was a moment of silence and Allistor looked Arthur straight into the eyes.

"Ye want to know how come A tell you this? It's nae an easy path to take, and people will keek at ye weirdly. A just wanted to show ye that it's nae easy."

Arthur looked Allistor straight in the eyes. This was the few time when he would ever remember that Allistor would try to protect him and it was a very strange feeling. He smiled, or maybe even smirked. There was a leer in his eyes.

"Don't worry. And thanks for telling me. I will keep that in mind, but it won't stop me."

Allistor smiled and walked over to give Arthur a rare but unusually welcome hug.

"Figures, us Kirkland's between. Fine, I'll talk to some of my mukkers, they're in Paris and should be able to talk to Francis for ye. A can't give ye any promises, but it will work. Somehow. A have never kent that jimmy to hold his anger for long. Just be ye'self."

Arthur laughed and it felt good to do so. "Thanks." he said simply.

"Good. Now wash this stupid mess and Arthur... love ye, brother."

"Leave!" Arthur shouted after him and closed the door as Allistor's red locks disappeared, but he wasn't angry. Allistor had made him feel slightly better, despite the usual fights and bothers. It felt good to have life as it normally would be and it felt good to know that his brother accepted him for who he was. It was slightly sad, he guessed, that Allistor was such a prick, but who could choose their siblings?

But he still had an issue at hand. Francis was gone, but like Allistor said, he would write. And Arthur swore to himself when those letters started to come he'd be Arthur again. Or at least, try to...

 _TBC_

* * *

 **A/N:** Woah, a lot happened in this chapter and yes, Allistor can be a big brother, he just doesn't bother most of the time.

I originally planned to include yet another dream into this chapter, but when I looked into it, it was kind of a repeat from the last one. And in all honesty, we don't need to wallow more into the depths of insecurities, so I'll be nice for once and leave it. Next chapter will be a chapter letter once again and will conclude the end for the Antonio Arc... FINALLY!

 **Scottish translations:**

Holibags: vacation

Fleet mukkers: fast friends

Efter: after

Twa: two

Kinch: problem

Folk: family

Jammy: lucky

Keek: look

Kent: known

Jimmy: man

 **Anonymous review replies:**

 **Guest:** Gracias... it's been ten years since I last studied Spanish and I am sadly a bit rusty. Haven't been to Spain either for years, so I haven't had the opportunity to practice.

 **N:** Thank you for telling me your wondrous reaction, because I needed a good laugh. Don't worry, it's not a maniacal laugh, but more or less a pleasant one. Though, I must urge, please do not hate Antonio. Yes, he is quite a dark figure for this story, but he has legit reasons to act the way he does. I've finally been able to approach that part of the story, because I have been dying to write it for a while. OK, not figuratively not dying, but it's one of those stories that spins around in my head even if I may never write it down.

Btw, the beret was quite intentional. While I was staying in Corsica a few months back I saw a group of aged men playing boule. A few of them actually wore berets and they were the men I snuck in there. I sometimes feel like the village need more people in it. I can actually see that these men in the story would have returned from a boule game when the whole commotion started.

PS: Thank you by the way, personally I don't see my English to be something extraordinary. My old teachers tended to say my grammar was awful. Guess this is why I try to write as much as I can.

 **Francis:** If I could, I would wrap a gift for you and send it to Stockholm for the prize of "you 100% got it". Indeed, out of my reviews so far I think you are the only one who saw the deeper meaning, so congratulations. There is a pretty complicated story behind Antonio's actions and while I may never have time enough to explain the full story, that part will come. Still, this story is just slightly over half way finished, so I have yet a few things I need to wrangle Arthur through. It sounds awful in the way I just put it, but meh... I can be quite the little evil writer when I want to.

PS: Glenn o Poseidon hälsar ;) Å oroa inte för att man regnar bort, det e vi la vana vid härnere. Hoppas allt mås bra och hälsa Knugen.

 **Guest** (2): I am sorry... due to real life I cannot always throw myself for every update and these past few weeks have had a lot of events happening. Still, I thank you for your concern and hope you enjoyed, but please, keep in mind that I have no intentions of abandoning this story.

 **Trivia:**

 **Magic:** I have long had issues with how Hetalia has handled magic and magic-users within its universe, because the way I see it half the world should have been magic-users at some point. Yes, I understand the logics behind why Norway, England and Romania became the three main weird magic-users (Norway and his trolls, Romania and vampires, England and well... traditions), but I think it's important not to forget that every country in one way or another has been quite adapt in various kinds of magical areas.

Eg, the Slavic region, that stretches from Russia to the Czech Republic, has a number of myths and creatures well sorted into magic. Such examples would include vampires and vila (in Harry Potter spelled veela). Another famous example of characters are Baba Yaga, famously known for living in a hut with chicken legs. My personal favourite is the story of Koschei, the deathless. He kept himself alive and unkilleable by hiding his soul inside a needle. The needle he hid in an egg, which he hid in a duck, which exist in a hare, which was put inside an iron chest, which he buried under a tree, which exist on an island. He could only be killed if the needle was destroyed, but in order to even get to the needle you had to find the island, find the right tree, be able to break into the chest. If the chest is open the hare would bolt away, so you'd have to catch that. If the hare is caught then the duck would fly away, and you'd have to somehow catch that. Once you had the egg you'd be able to control Koschei and his fate, but this was deemed impossible.

Still, doesn't the whole remove your soul and put it into objects remind you of a certain someone? Here is another hint. Koschei was the antagonist to the prince in the tale.

 **Cats and their lives:** For some reason, in the Spanish speaking world, cats have seven lives. Another interesting thing I read up upon was that you can also find cacti in their windows to ward of evil spirits.


	12. Antonio part VII

Yeah, this is late. Not going to say much more, since this seems to have become a bad habit of mine.

Had to change and add a number of things so on the plus side, this chapter ended up longer than I originally intended. But it is a good addition to the length.

 **Chapter 12**

 **Letters in Christmas**

 **2007**

As years passed Arthur had seen less and less of Francis. He only returned to the village twice, and both times he stayed for a few days to visit his mother. In the first couple of months they had barely spoken, phone-calls had been ignored and the unwritten letters collected dust, but slowly as time healed wounds their conversations started once more.

But not once did either mention the events from that summer. Not until one single letter suddenly arrived into the Kirkland's letterbox, stamped October 24th in 2007. Arthur had gotten home from a rainy afternoon when Allistor handed him the letter silently. Ever since that day life had been oddly peaceful among the Kirkland residents.

 _October 17th 2007_

 _Dearest Arthur!_

 _How are you? I am awfully sorry it has taken me this long to write to you, but I was worried. You stopped calling me, and mother tells me that you never visit her. I know I should be more responsible, but your actions that day truly frightened me. I was afraid that I somehow made you do it. I hope you know I have loved you, you're like the brother I never had and I've cherished each moment we've spent together. Thus, it rips my heart to feel that there has been a crevice that constantly expands and sets us apart._

 _I am no longer upset and for whatever deed you did I forgive you. I thought about your actions for months and I can slowly see why you acted the way you did. I may never know your exact reasons but for now I hope we can set this aside. Next time we meet, let's be friends once more._

 _With kind regards_

 _Francis_

 _Ps: Things between me and Antonio aren't what they used to be. I wonder if my mood has upset him. He was the one who has advised me since to write to you._

-000-

 _November 3rd 2007_

 _Frog!_

 _I still don't know what to think of that man, but know that even a Kirkland can, as Americans say it, "bury the hatchet" when times require. (Blame the twins for my needless knowledge of American culture, they watch way too many cartoons). For your information, I've grown several centimetres since we last saw each other. I am catching up to you._

 _I admit I have not been to see your mother for a while, but it's been chaos here in this house since Bryan found mum flirting with yet another potential boyfriend, and since we all know what happened to no. 1, 2 and 3, we've been scrambling around to keep her away from all such activities. In the end Allistor threatened to move back to Scotland if she didn't stop flirting and reconsider. It kind of worked, I suspect he will move there one day. He keeps going on and on about it._

 _And before I forget, mum wants to know if you'll be home for Christmas? She's been asking for the last few years._

 _Arthur_

 _PS: I still don't like him. But tell him I am sorry for what I did. Also, don't get too close._

-000-

 _December 12th 2007_

 _Arthur!_

 _I know I should have called you to say this, but Antonio broke up with me. He told me yesterday he has been seeing Lovino for some time, and finally he had the guts to tell me._

 _Oddly, I am not sad. I guessed I've seen it coming for some time now._

 _I hope you can forgive me. I was wrong._

 _Francis_

-000-

 _December 14th 2007_

 _Francis,_

 _I tried to warn you that he was seeing someone, but I don't blame you for listening. My actions weren't any good at all. I am here for you, should you ever need a shoulder to cry or a diversion to keep your attention away._

 _Arthur_

 _PS: You still haven't told me if you'll be home for Christmas_

-000-

Arthur knew he might not get a reply on time as Christmas cancelled much of the usual post in the village, but it sure irritated him that Francis refused to call to tell him his Christmas plans. The British teenager ruffled the tufts of locks of his already messy hair as he tossed his apron over the counter. By next summer he knew he'd have more than enough to chase down that idiotic yet loveable frog of his.

 _PLING_

Madame Ruiz would probably be irritated for his lack of willpower to clean up, but his shift was over and the atmosphere of the café was unusually calm for the Christmas stress. It was the 24th of December so he figured people had other things to do than to hang around the café.

He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jeans and figured he'd check the list. It was obvious Allistor had forgotten to buy something for the pudding.

FROM Francis

I'm at the station

Sent 1 minute ago

Arthur wasn't sure if his brain was playing tricks with him, or not.

-000-

It was a must surreal and yet familiar feeling to be back on the train station. Unlike most of their encounters the station was almost empty, save a few lost souls that scrambled to return to expecting families. Arthur did not have to search for long before he saw Francis, looking very similar to his usual self in a blue coat and hair tied into a ponytail. A weathered old bag stood by his feet as Arthur hurried over to him.

The two embraced, and it was as if his soul found peace once more. He felt happier than he had for the last couple of years. They cried, and there were none who looked strangely at them or seemed to even consider their touches to be anything outside the Christmas spirit.

That year Christmas became a joint event as both Francis and his mother celebrated with the Kirkland family in a mixture of the English and the French. Large portions of roast turkey and slices of foie gras was handed out aplenty to be washed down at the end by both Christmas pudding and bûche de Noël. As night drew close they all retired in a sleepy and food-induced daze.

That evening Arthur found hope that his friendship with Francis might become more as the pain would finally settle. With little time to prepare for anything he had boxed one of his dearest belongings that yet would seem like a good gift. He didn't have many possessions linked to his father, John Kirkland, who departed from their home the year after Arthur was born. Arthur never knew his father as he had walked out on them saying he wasn't good enough to be a father. His mother still kept the name, as she had been forbidden by her family to return to her maiden name. His father had been a military man and though Arthur didn't know anything about his whereabouts he had been given a dogtag passed down from his grandfather who fought in the war. He too had been named Arthur, so it had seemed fitting.

When Arthur had presented his gift to Francis he had smiled and presented his own gift with a hint of a blush. Arthur shortly understood why, as another dogtag, this one French, had been given to him. This too had seen the war and had a similar story, where Francis grandfather had fought for the Resistance within France.

Once, there had been two nations stuck in war.

Once, there had been two nations who could not see peace.

Now, there were two boys of different ages, one 15 and the other 19 whose friendship may not be strong enough to bind two nations together, but they prove one small thing. Even the worst of enemies can make the best of friends.

 _TBC_

 **A/N:** To forbid someone from using a name is probably the worst ever excuse I have ever written down, but right now it's half past midnight and my little grey cells have gone to bed already. I'll work on that back-story another day.

This also closes the Arc of Antonio, I hope this made all of you "Antonio haters" happy.

 **Anonymous review responses:**

 **Francis:** Holy moly, thank you for that amazingly kind review. I am so happy to see how much you enjoyed the last chapter, and I almost feel that you've gotten better at knowing this story than even I do. Don't you worry though, I have not had anyone close to me beat anyone up. Believe it or not, this all came from my mind, but I have seen bruises and cuts in the past. I have also seen how mental abuse is worse, and that's kind of how I based the last chapter. A bruise will heal, a broken heart takes longer to heal(as was mentioned in this chapter).

I am also pleased I could show how I portray Allistor and people around Arthur. The story is written from Arthur's perspective, so he tends to not like a lot of people. And I kind of tried to see how well I could portray a sibling relationship that's just barely there. I have heard of so many who for some reason don't get along with their siblings, which baffles me. I have almost always (save childhood because I am six years younger than him) gotten along with my older brother, and I will do anything to help him be happy. I therefore tried to teach myself how a bad relationship would work, and I am pleased it seems real. Because, yeah, I doubt any of them really hate each other. But those two are close. And yes, Allistor knew/guessed a lot of what was going on. Though, I doubt he fully understands it.

Funny note, I don't remember if I have written this down, yet, but Francis was Allistor's first kiss.

Lol, det e la självklart har jag en armada av paraplyn o regnponcho, alla lika färgranna som en regnbåge (för sådan är jag, anti-grått o regn.) Hoppas att vädret håller för er. Förvirra dig inte i barnayran nu när hela kungahuset tycks drunkna i en babyboom. Hälsa Estelle o lillprinsen!

 **Guest:** I could give you a list of things that kept me too busy to write, but for now I will settle to let you know I live a busy life. Still, I am forever so happy to know you really enjoy my story, since you're the only one of my reviewers who near scream at me to update.

 **Trivia:**

 **Foie Gras and Bûche de Noël:** Foie gras translates to 'fat liver'. An exquisite dish made from a fattened duck's or goose's liver that has been well fed. Bûche de Noël is pretty much the same as a Christmas Log, a chocolate dessert made from sponge cake to resemble the Yule Log (a tradition of burning a selective piece of firewood). Bûche de Noël is a favourite within French Christmas traditions.

 **Dogtag** _(part 1)_ **:** So, I don't want to seem like a spy, but this story is quite significant and will be mentioned in later chapters, hence why I have put this as part 1. The story of the dogtag is taken from a couple of things, a few that can be mentioned as below.

1, I will only surmise that the biggest reason I put the dogtags into this story is due to the lovely AvariceRose, whom I suspect can figure a few clues out this way, so I am ending this clue here.

2, dogtags have since long been part of the military dating from (according to Wikipedia) the Franco-Prussian war of 1870. The idea, for those who don't know, is to give out an identity marker so that fallen soldiers can easily be identified for the records. Different efforts to identify fallen soldiers have existed for centuries, but the metal plate is a fairly new "invention" going by war-history.

3, my own dogtag. Despite the fact that I have never set my foot within the Swedish army, dogtags were given to all citizens of Sweden until 2010. I was born before the Cold Wars ended in 1991, and dogtags were handed out from from the beginning of the war as Sweden was rightfully terrified of the effects the war could cause on the nation. To make sure that if bombs fell or radiation happened to wipe you out, dogtags would work as an identification to be brought back to the relatives. Thankfully, the few events that did occur never resulted in an immediate apocalypse as some feared, so I guess most dogtags have been forgotten in a drawer somewhere. Mine, which I haven't worn ever (as I suspect), happened to appear a few months back and it added to the spark that I should add this part. Call it fate.


End file.
